


If You Dare....

by Fawn_Eyed_Girl



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Consensual Sex, Dare, F/M, Fluff and Angst, New York City, Pen Pals, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27709327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fawn_Eyed_Girl/pseuds/Fawn_Eyed_Girl
Summary: Inuyasha hates Christmas, and looks forward to spending it alone.Kagome loves Christmas, and is devastated that she has to spend it alone.She decides to leave a notebook in the stacks at a bookstore, in hopes of making a special connection. When Inuyasha finds it, does he dare take her challenge? And will she dare to accept his?Commissioned Artwork byClearwillow
Relationships: Higurashi Kagome/InuYasha
Comments: 178
Kudos: 177





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Witchy99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchy99/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, or any characters from the manga and/or anime.
> 
> Hello everyone! I hope that wherever you are, you're safe and doing well.
> 
> Happiest of Birthdays to [WitchyGirl99](https://witchygirl99.tumblr.com/)! I am so grateful to know you, and to be so inspired by all of the joy that you bring to our fandom. You are a wonder and a delight, truly 💖
> 
> This story was inspired by my binging of Dash and Lily, and by my love of New York City (I miss you, New York!). And I am eternally grateful to [Clearwillow](https://clearwillow.tumblr.com/) for her amazing art. 
> 
> Also, please check out the [If You Dare playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1m9qduYgPFW4ySLncBjXrp?si=wphjy8HXT-S2U16Hn6C3eg) on Spotify, made by [gribedli](https://gribed-li.tumblr.com/) as part of an additional Happy Birthday to Witchy!
> 
> Many thanks to [gribedli](https://gribed-li.tumblr.com/), [NeutronStarChild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeutronStarChild), and [Ruddcatha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruddcatha) for their careful reading of this fic. It would not be what it is without you 💖

[ ](https://clearwillow.tumblr.com/post/635768856657444864/fawn-eyed-girl-approached-me-the-other-day-and)

Commissioned Artwork by [Clearwillow](https://clearwillow.tumblr.com/)

* * *

Inuyasha Takahashi hated Christmas. Hated it.

He hated the singing; he hated the way that the city turned into a goddamn center of joy and happiness where people actually _smiled_ and _laughed_ and not out of sarcasm. He hated the way the Salvation Army Santas rang their stupid bells and tried to get you to give money when _no fucking one carries change anymore_. He hated the pop-up shops in Bryant Park. He hated the sounds of jingle bells that permeated the air. He hated all the Christmas music that had been playing in the stories since goddamned October. It was all so fucking overwhelming to his inu youkai senses, that he just wanted to stay in his apartment and basically hibernate until December 26.

Did he mention that he hated the singing?

He emerged from the subway at Union Square, sour and scowling. The subway had been, as per usual, akin to the gateway to hell; he never understood how it could be 25 degrees outside, and literally a million degrees as soon as you descended the stairs to the tracks. Yes, he was pretty sure that the subway had a line to hell; that would have made complete and total sense.

He trudged along through yet _another_ holiday pop-up park, through the tinsel and the lights and the noise. His destination would be quiet, thank heavens.

He was looking forward to a little quiet this year.

His mom had decided to take a holiday trip to Hawaii, and had asked him to go. The only problem was, his mother’s new boyfriend would also be there, and the last thing he wanted was to be in a hotel room next door to them for a week. So he told his mother, thanks, but I’ll stay with Sesshomaru (which, how did she _not_ know he was lying when he said _that_?), and she laughed and told him to have fun. 

Which he 100% planned to do.

Alone.

Alone with his pizza, and his gaming. Alone with his books, and his foils, and his rocks. 

Yes. Inuyasha couldn’t wait to spend his Christmas alone, and happy.

A sudden slam into his midsection caused him to take a few steps back in shock and nearly bent him in half. “Oi,” he shouted, “what the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?”

It was a girl. He didn’t quite see her face; it was covered by a Santa hat. She was also carrying a massive pile of tinsel.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice light and musical and apologetic. “I’m sorry.” She picked herself up; Inuyasha was overwhelmed by the scent of vanilla and cherry blossom. “Merry Christmas!” she called, and ran off towards the singers. 

Inuyasha grumbled, and was about to shout something nasty in return, but he held his tongue instead. Why should he ruin someone else’s day? 

Inuyasha paused for a moment, closing his eyes and getting his bearings. He looked to his left and started towards Broadway, but a crisp, clear voice caught his attention. His fluffy dog ears that sat perched atop his head swiveled around, trying to sort out where the voice was coming from:

 _Dashing through the snow  
_ _In a one-horse open sleigh  
_ _O’er the fields we go  
_ _Laughing all the way...hahaha!_

A smile threatened to cross Inuyasha’s face as he stared dreamily at the singers. The girl who ran into him—she was singing with them now, her face open and bright, her voice the crisp and clear one. Her blue eyes sparkled like the silver tinsel around her neck. Her Santa hat was perched jauntily among her black curls. Her hair was long, and wild, and cascaded down her back.

As he watched, Inuyasha found that he was, in fact, smiling.

 _Keh_ , he scoffed. _At least someone knows the words._

* * *

Of all his favorite places to go in New York, none held more nostalgia, or more intrigue, for Inuyasha than The Strand. Standing three floors high, it was a place where one could literally lose oneself for hours. Need a book on Hungarian cooking? The Strand had at least 50. Need a book on Hegel? You’d have to be more specific; The Strand had probably 200. Every topic one could ever think up; every book in existence. They were all there, and they were all his for the perusing, for the purchasing.

Inuyasha stood in front of the bookshelf featuring Philip K. Dick. _Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?_ was one of his favorite books, and he loved coming here to see if they had anything new that he hadn’t read before. He frowned when he saw a copy of _The Martian Chronicles_ sitting in between _The Man in the High Castle_ and _A Scanner Darkly_. He scoffed, and pulled the Bradbury book off the shelf. Couldn’t they hire good help anymore? Did he have to do all the work himself?

He turned and stalked back towards the information desk, where a surly-looking man stood, organizing new orders, his braid hanging haphazardly over his shoulder. His nametag read: Bankotsu.

“Hey,” Inuyasha said gruffly, thrusting the book at Bankotsu. “This was misshelved.”

Bankotsu took the book as though Inuyasha were poisonous. “Thanks,” he said disdainfully. “I’ll make sure it gets put in the right place.”

Inuyasha stared at him expectantly, ear twitching, one fang poking out from below his lower lip.

“I _will_ ,” Bankotsu said. “And hey—you know, if you ever want to work here...you’ve got a perfect in.” He rolled his eyes, and Inuyasha turned and walked away, his hands shoved in his pockets.

As he wandered aimlessly through the aisles, Inuyasha thought back to all the reasons he’d decided to spend Christmas alone. His mother, and her new boyfriend—what was his name, Naraku?—and Hawaii. Yeah, no fucking way. His ex-girlfriend, Kikyo, and her annoying crowd. His friend, Miroku, who worked at a pizza shop near his apartment…

Yes. cheap pizza. Beer. Quiet. All good reasons to stay alone in New York.

Inuyasha found himself in front of the Haruki Murakami books. He grunted; maybe he could scroll through the titles and see if they had a copy of _Killing Commentadore_ —he’d been meaning to read it, and now that it was winter break, and he was alone, he finally had the time and the space to do so.

Inuyasha scanned the titles, and his eyes came to rest on a red, leather-bound notebook. Clearly out of fucking place. _What the fuck is up with the help here, misplacing all these books_? Inuyasha grabbed it off the shelf and stomped back to the information desk, where he paused, breathing heavily in frustration. Bankotsu didn’t even look up at him, but one eyebrow did raise slightly. 

“This was also in the wrong spot,” Inuyasha groused. “Honestly, if you’re going to be a bookstore, the books need to be where people can find them.”

“That one doesn’t go anywhere,” Bankotsu said, at last looking up to see what Inuyasha was holding in his hands. “If you don’t want it, I suggest you put it back where you found it.”

Inuyasha looked down at the cover; he hadn’t even noticed that it said anything. But sure enough, in bold, black letters, the cover read: _If you dare…_

“What?” Inuyasha said to Bankotsu. “What the fuck is this?”

Bankotsu shrugged. “Like I said,” he told him. “If you’re not interested, put it back so some other poor sap can find it.”

“Wait a minute,” Inuyasha said harshly. “What do you mean, ‘if I’m not interested.’”

Bankotsu shrugged again and turned back to his work. “Just put it back,” he said. “You won’t find anything there that’s useful. Go back to your Philip K. Dick books, Inuyasha.”

Inuyasha grumbled, and grunted, and shuffled his feet in frustration, but he left the information desk and took the journal over to the other notebooks, ready to leave it where it belonged. As he set it down, his fingers ran over the printing on the cover: _If you dare…_ it read, and the writing was large, and bold, and beautiful.

He couldn’t help it. He found himself turning the pages, and opening the notebook.

The first twenty or so pages were blank, so Inuyasha flipped through until he found the first page with writing. It was the same large, fluid lettering, and it read:

 _If you’ve made it this far, welcome!  
_ _Now, I have a mystery for you to solve.  
_ _There are clues in this notebook.  
_ _If you want to know what they are, then turn the page.  
_ _But if you don’t, please put the book back on the shelf where you found it._

Inuyasha growled, half in annoyance, half in anticipation. His clawed fingers played with the page. Did he dare? 

He growled again. Of fucking course he did.

His fingers clenched; his ears twitched in anticipation; and slowly, carefully, Inuyasha turned the page. 

At the top of the page were a series of underlines, like a game of Hangman. Inuyasha grunted, and held the book tighter. Underneath there was a message.

 _Great!_ The fluid, gorgeous handwriting said. _You turned the page!  
_ _Now, here is a coded message, just for you.  
_ _You can solve it if you can find the right books.  
_ _But: only the_ **_right books_ ** _will help you_.

Inuyasha chuckled; he was loath to admit this to literally anyone else on the planet, but he loved a good deciphering mystery. 

So, _of fucking course_ , he turned the page.

And there it was: the first clue.  
 _Look for phenomenology.  
_ _You’ll have to have big hands for this one_.  
 _And you’ll need to look sharp._

What? What the fucking _what_?

Inuyasha pulled out his phone to Google 'phenomenology,’ but then a small note caught his eye at the bottom of the page:

 _If you’re going to look this up on your phone, you better put this notebook back. Right the fuck now_.

He grimaced, shoved his phone back into his pocket, and huffed back to the information desk. Bankotsu raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re back,” he said.

“Phenomenology,” Inuyasha said. 

“What?” asked Bankotsu.

Inuyasha opened the notebook and showed Bankotsu the page. “What is that?” he asked.

Bankotsu shrugged. “Hells if I know.”

“You’re the information desk!” Inuyasha whisper-yelled. “How the _fuck_ do you not know what you have in your own bookstore?”

“Because,” Bankotsu said easily, “I’m not supposed to offer any help. She explicitly told me not to.”

“ _She_? So, it’s a she.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Ya totally just fucking did,” Inuyasha pointed out.

Bankotsu shrugged again. “I definitely didn’t tell you anything,” he replied. “But if you don’t think you can find it, you should put the notebook back on the shelf.”

Inuyasha scoffed. “Of course I can find it,” he shot back. “Don’t I practically live here? Didn’t I buy you a Megan Cabot book for Christmas this year?”

Bankotsu rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he said. “If you can find the first book, you’ll be 100% more successful than literally anyone else who’s been here, so…” he trailed off, and turned back to his books.

Inuyasha grumbled and tried not to lose his shit, but he had to admit: the thrill of the chase was exciting him. Turning him on. He’d been fully expecting to come here and lose a few hours in the stacks, but this was _not_ what he’d had in mind. And yet…

It was better than anything he could have expected.

“Phenomenology, phenomenology,” he whispered to himself, over and over, as he wandered through the shelves. What the fuck could it be?

“An -ology,” he murmured. He could kick himself for not paying more attention in, well, _all_ of his classes. But for some reason, this one seemed close, like he could almost remember hearing it, or seeing it, somewhere. 

But where?

“Phenomenon,” he murmured now, and his eyes snapped open. 

_Philosophy_.

Now he remembered. 

Inuyasha took off for the Philosophy section of the book store. This was the Strand, though, and when he got to the Philosophy section, he couldn’t believe what he saw. 

So. Many. Books.

“Okay,” he said to himself. “Big hands, look sharp.” He scoured the shelves, looking for something, _anything_ , that would lend itself to that riddle. Five minutes...ten minutes...and then, he saw it.

 _Phenomenology of Perception_.

One of the biggest fucking books in the section. 

_Big hands. Look sharp_.

Swiftly, he pulled it off the shelf. He turned the page in the notebook. It read:

Page 194. Line 8. Word 5. Letter 7.

Anxiously, Inuyasha turned to page 194. A paper shook out; he grabbed it, but ignored it and shoved it into his pocket, turning instead to Line 8. Word 5. Letter 7:

 _A_.

Delighted, Inuyasha turned back to the first page in the notebook. He looked at the lines, and realized: he had no idea where this letter went. 

So, he wrote it underneath. He’d figure it out later. 

He turned back to the page where he left off in the notebook, but it was empty. 

“What the fuck?” he muttered. Was this the end of the search? Frustrated, he went to hurl the notebook to the ground, but then realized:

_There had been a piece of fucking paper in the phenomenology book._

Inuyasha tucked the notebook under his arm and pulled the paper from his pocket. It read:

_One down. Many more to go._   
_Stay in this section. A story about a girl who learns to re-see the world.  
All through letters._

Inuyasha grinned; this one he knew. He immediately shifted down (thank fuck The Strand put their book in alphabetical order in each section), and looked for Gaarder; _Sophie’s World_. The only book he actually paid attention to in philosophy class.

“Gaarder, Gaarder,” he whispered, looking over the shelves. “Where the _fuck_ are you?”

“Inuyasha?” said a familiar voice. 

Inuyasha whipped his head up: _Yura_.

 _Fuck_.

He slapped the notebook shut and turned around to see a tall, slender girl with dark hair cut in a severe bob, her hair slightly longer in the front as it framed her face. Her pointed ears and red eyes gave away her demon heritage. 

“Hey—hey, Yura,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 

“I thought you hated philosophy,” she said, surprised. “Didn’t you say….let me think…’The Philosopher Kings are no better than Sunday morning bully pulpit pundits?”

Inuyasha laughed, a little too loudly. “Was—was that me?” he asked, still laughing was beyond what was normal. 

Yura’s eyes immediately narrowed. “Why are you here?” she demanded.

His eyes narrowed right back. “Why are _you_ here?” he shot back.

“Looking for a gift for Kikyo,” she said, running her fingers delicately over the books lining the shelves. “We have a Christmas party on Friday.”

“Oh.” He didn’t want to hear about Christmas gifts for Kikyo, or Christmas parties _with_ Kikyo.

Quite frankly, he wanted to forget that Kikyo ever existed.

Yura’s face filled with concern and sympathy. “Right…” she said, an awkward silence hanging now between them both. “I’m—sorry—I couldn’t invite you to the party Friday,” she said at last. “That would have been...weird.”

“Keh,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “It ain’t no big deal.” And it _was_ , because Yura was supposedly his friend too, but it also _wasn’t_ , because he didn’t want to be within miles of anywhere Kikyo was.

“Well,” she said, frowning slightly. “I hope that I see you around?”

He shrugged again. “Whatever.”

She peered at the book in his hand. “What _are_ you doing here, anyway?”

“Nothing,” he snapped. “Browsing.”

Yura’s face settled into a sympathetic smile. “Of course,” she said placatingly. “I’ll see you.” And she turned and left the aisle, leaving Inuyasha gaping after her.

He growled, then groaned, and rested his head against the bookshelf.

Kikyo was the _last_ person he’d wanted to be reminded of.

They had dated...for two years. Had been inseparable...for two years. But ultimately? They were better “as friends,” Kikyo said, because they were getting older (um, they were 22, so not really sure how that was “older,” but whatever), and honestly? She couldn’t see herself spending the rest of her life with a half-demon. Or a full demon, actually, when he pressed her. She was just wasn't into that kind of “thing,” and just wasn’t into him...not in the way he was into her, anyway. They’d parted, kind of amicably, but ultimately? She’d broken his heart, and he never wanted to see her again, no matter what he told her.

Inuyasha sighed, and clutched the notebook in his hand tightly. He’d been so excited to solve the mystery, and now… was he still?

Then he remembered that he knew the next book, and that each clue would take him one step closer to the mystery girl who’d captured his attention.

He was attracted to her: to her wit, to her choice in books (so far, anyway), to how fucking cute and clever she was. But was that enough? Could there be a way he might be able to get to know her better, through her clues? Because, if he was honest with himself, he missed witty banter and challenges. He missed connecting with another person on a visceral level. And yes, maybe, even though he wanted to spend Christmas alone, maybe he was a little bit lonely, too. 

So once he solved her puzzle, maybe he could give her a puzzle of her own? Leave some clues of his own? See if she could be challenged, as much as she _could_ challenge?

He would have to think about how to do that.

Inuyasha lifted his head and started to scan the shelves again. In no time at all he found _Sophie’s World_ , and when he looked down at the notebook, he saw the next clue:

Page 161. Line 14. Word 4. Letter 1.

 _G_.

He immediately wrote down the letter on the first page, and pulled out the paper that was tucked inside the book on page 161. 

_Dance section. Choreography by chance_.

And Inuyasha was off again.

The mystery girl led him on and on, all over the store; each book was increasingly odder than the next. From Merce Cunningham (the choreographer who used chance to create dances), to a biography of Emily Dickinson, to a book on early 20th century Japanese animation, to a book on box gardens...the mystery girl led him all over the store, to his last book, a little-known Louisa May Alcott novel called _A Long Fatal Love Chase_ , which Inuyasha hoped was _not_ a prophetic title. Because as she dragged him from place to place, as she challenged his knowledge of books, and topics, and the very bookstore itself, he was starting to realize: 

He was maybe hoping that she was here, that she was watching him, that she was watching him _prove himself_ to her. Because maybe, just maybe, he was now after more than solving the puzzle.

Maybe he was also after her heart.

Finally, at long last, Inuyasha had all the letters. But they were all scrambled. What could they say?

Inuyasha went over to the coffee shop. He ordered himself a cappuccino, with extra espresso, then settled himself down in an easy chair and began to try and sort through the letters.

For close to half an hour Inuyasha tried the letters in different combinations, over and over. His cappuccino was finished, but still he lingered over the letters, writing them into the slots, then erasing them. 

Finally, finally, _fucking finally_ , he was pretty sure that he had it. He blinked, and held the notebook out at arm’s length, and read:

_Tag. You’re it._

He growled. All that for a fucking _tag, you’re it_?

Inuyasha got up and raced back over to the information desk, where Bankotsu was now pouring over the latest copy of _Spin_. “Hey,” Inuyasha said rudely, “all this running around and for what? A ‘tag, you’re it’? What kind of bullshit is that?” He thrust the notebook in Bankotsu’s face.

Bankotsu leaned over, looked at the notebook closely, then shook his head. “All that work, Inuyasha? You don’t want to know what it means?”

Inuyasha blinked. “Oh, what?” he said, “fucking _now_ you can tell me about her?”

“No,” said Bankotsu, “but I _can_ give you this.” And he handed Inuyasha a folded slip of paper. “Read it,” he said.

Inuyasha accepted the paper and opened it. There, in the same beautiful, fluid handwriting, was a note:

 _So you noticed me! Congratulations. Now, what will you do to get_ **_me_ ** _to notice_ **_you_** _?_

Inuyasha felt like tearing apart half the bookstore. What the ever-loving _fuck_ did this mean? He stepped away from the information desk, breathing heavily. He’d just run around the store, uncovering the clues; he’d solved the mystery, and for fucking what? For another fucking _note_?

He glanced around, half-expecting her to jump out from somewhere, but of course she didn’t. _Of course_ she was nowhere around. 

Inuyasha growled, then grinned, his golden eyes lighting up with a slow realization. 

She’d left him clues, and a puzzle. But there was no reason why he couldn’t do the same.

He went back to Bankotsu. “Give me a piece of paper and a pen,” he said.

“What?” Bankotsu looked up at him, surprised.

“A fucking _pen_ , Ban,” Inuyasha said. “Give me a pen, please.”

Bankotsu sighed, but handed Inuyasha a piece of paper and a Strand pen. Inuyasha grunted his thanks, then leaned over the counter, scrawling a note in big, sprawling letters. He folded it up, wrote something on the cover, and handed it to Bankotsu.

“Here,” he said. “If she comes back, give this to her. Let’s see if she can take what she dishes out.” He grinned. “I’ll see ya, Ban.”

“Sure, Inuyasha,” Bankotsu said to Inuyasha’s retreating form. He noticed that Inuyasha took the notebook with him, and looked down at the folded slip of paper. 

The front read: _To the mystery girl._

_Open it...if you dare._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is the mystery girl that left the notebook? Will she come back for it? Will Bankotsu give her the note that Inuyasha left--and, what does that note say? Find out all this, and more, at the next update!
> 
> Happy Birthday again to WitchyGirl99, and thanks everyone, so much, for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Inuyasha's turn to dare his Mystery Girl to do something. Where does he send her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, or any of the characters from the manga and/or anime.
> 
> Hello everyone! Surprise! Here is chapter 2 of If You Dare...
> 
> In this chapter, Inuyasha dares Kagome to do something (two things, actually). Will she do them? I hope you enjoy!

Kagome Higurashi loved Christmas. She loved it all: the singing, the music, the decorations. She loved Santa; she loved the elves; she loved the way that Christmas gripped the city and made it a warm and loving and friendly place, no matter how cold it got. 

But...she didn’t love when Christmas made her late.

And now, she was late; _very_ late, but _someone_ had to finish decorating the counter at the rink, and _someone_ had to set the music station to Christmas, and _someone_ had to count the money and close out the register and fix the tinsel that was dangling off the counter.

Someone had to do all these things. And that someone was usually Kagome.

Because she loved Christmas. And because Christmas loved her.

She dashed up the subway steps at Union Square, looking around frantically for the pop-up shop that she just _knew_ would help her. She needed fast decorations, and she needed them on credit.

“Hey, Kagome,” said Shippo, the kitsune owner of Kagome’s favorite pop-up Christmas shop. “Are you looking for something in particular?” 

Kagome looked frantically over Shippo’s decorations. “Yes, Shippo,” she said, “if it’s okay. I need some garland. On credit?”

Shippo laughed. “Help yourself,” he said. “I know you’re good for it. And if you’re not…” His eyes narrowed, albeit playfully. “I do know where you live.”

Kagome laughed too; Shippo was her neighbor; she often stayed late at the Christmas village to help Shippo pack everything up for the night. He was a talented artist, and his work always sold well, so there wasn’t much left at the end of the night, but between the two of them, they could pack everything up and carry it to Shippo’s apartment without any problem. One of the perks of being friends with the best-selling shop in the Union Square Pop-Up Christmas Village? Buying items on credit.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully. “I owe you.”

“No problem,” he said. “Just be sure to give us a plug.”

Kagome scoffed. “You hardly need a boost from me, Shippo,” she said, smiling gently. “You do just fine on your own.”

Shippo blushed. “Pick out what you want and get out of here,” he said playfully. “And break a leg.”

Kagome rolled her eyes. “Ugh, Shippo, you only say that before a gig! This is _hardly_ a real gig.”

“Sure,” Shippo said, waving his hand and turning to talk to a customer. Kagome eyed the shelves and the hooks; when she saw the garland necklaces, as long as leis, she knew exactly what she needed. She looped five of them around her arm, then turned and began to race towards her group…

Only to run smack-dab into the body of another person. Of a _man_.

Of a fucking sexy man with abs of steel. 

Her garland flew everywhere, but mostly onto him.

Kagome immediately turned red. Why did it always have to be that she was the biggest ass around the hottest guys?

“Oy,” he shouted, nearly right in her ear, “what the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?”

Kagome immediately began picking the garland off his very agitated, very _hot_ , body.

“I’m sorry,” she said, frantically grabbing her garland and stumbling some more. “I’m sorry. Merry Christmas!” And she dashed off, leaving the man probably gaping after her. But no matter. 

Because she. Was. Late.

“You’re late, Kagome,” said Ayumi irritably. 

“What took you so long?” asked Eri.

“Do you have something for us to wear?” asked Yuka.

“Now, now,” said Hojo amiably, “let’s give her a chance to get settled.”

Kagome looked around at her friends and handed them each a rope of garland to wear around their necks. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said. “I had some things to finish up at the rink, and it took longer than I expected.”

“You’re here now,” said Eri, “And that’s what matters.”

“Shall we?” asked Hojo, and the girls all nodded. 

They began to sing, but Kagome’s voice was the one who rang out, crisp and clear, among the other voices:

 _Dashing through the snow  
_ _In a one-horse open sleigh  
_ _O’er the fields we go  
_ _Laughing all the way...hahaha!_

Kagome smiled as she sang; she couldn’t help it. And it made her smile even more to see the face of the handsome man she’d bumped into, staring back at her, his golden eyes shining in the…

Golden eyes? _What_?

Kagome had inadvertently run into a...demon? She saw his ears twitching, and nearly choked on the song. 

No...a half-demon.

So, scratch that. A handsome, sexy half-demon. 

She’d almost mowed down a handsome, sexy, half-demon.

Kagome groaned inwardly. Just her luck. 

Why couldn’t she ever seem smooth around the hottest guys?

* * *

  
Kagome rolled over in her bed, and opened her eyes.

“Another day, another morning,” she murmured, “another minute closer to Christmas.” She grinned and jumped out of bed, and ran to the window to look outside.

“No snow yet, Buyo,” she said to her cat, who meowed at her plaintively. “But we still have a week until Christmas, and you never know? We might get lucky.”

The cat meowed at her again, and Kagome sighed. She grabbed some clothes, dropped them off in the bathroom, and then went into the kitchen to get Buyo his food. She started the coffeemaker, then went back to the bathroom to get into the shower.

Under the heat of the water, Kagome sighed. Christmas was only a week away, and she was devastated to be spending it alone. Her family was far away, and didn’t have the money to send her a plane ticket. She was barely making ends meet with her odd jobs, but she wasn’t quite ready to give up her dream of coming to New York to be a writer. She’d left home at 18 to attend NYU, and loved the city so much she decided to stay. She’d been lucky enough to intern at _The New York Times_ , but the internship hadn’t panned out into a full-time job, so after she graduated, she was mostly freelancing, although she had her eye on perhaps writing someday for _The New Yorker._ That was her most favorite magazine in the whole world, and she wanted nothing more than to be a writer for them. But for now, she was content with taking her freelance jobs, and applying for any editing positions that she was able to find. She couldn’t afford to take another internship, but she could take other odd jobs to help her make rent.

Right now, that consisted of working at the ice skate rental counter at Rockefeller Center; helping out with a few of the pop-up shops in Union Square Park; and temping as needed. She was grateful every day for the rent-controlled apartment she’d moved into on the Lower East Side when she was a freshman at NYU; that had managed to keep her costs down. 

Today, her plan was simple: go to work, make some money, check in on a project she had going. An important, important project.

Kagome turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping her body up snugly in a towel. She shivered a little; it was cold, colder than she had anticipated when she went to bed the night before with the heat set to only 60 degrees. Sometimes, her apartment blazed with heat. Other times, it was ice-cold. She sighed, and reached for her underwear and her sweater.

She prayed that these would be some happy surprises in store for her that day.

* * *

Kagome’s shift at the skate rental counter ended promptly at seven; she was supposed to meet Shippo and help him with his shop, but she had to admit that she was exhausted and really just wanted to go home. But...she knew that she couldn’t. She owed Shippo, basically forever; he’d helped her out during the four-plus years she’d lived in New York, sometimes more than she could say, and so she always felt obligated to repay him when and where she could. 

But the subway ride downtown gave her plenty of time to think. She wondered if she might be able to beg off work that night; she needed to sit somewhere, with a large coffee and a croissant, and start thinking about her next steps. She couldn’t work at an ice skate rental counter forever, nor could she help out at holiday pop-up shops for long, either. She needed to find a real gig, something that paid real money.

Quickly, she dashed off a text to Shippo:

_Can I just come by to help with the closing tonight? I wanted to get started on looking for a job for after the holidays._

It only took a minute or two before her phone pinged back:

 _Not a problem. You know what time I close_ 😉, _so just come by then?_

That made Kagome smile in spite of herself. 

_Sounds good_ , she wrote back. _I’ll just be at The Strand if you need me_.

Kagome tucked her phone into her pocket as the train pulled into its stop. The doors opened and Kagome jumped to her feet. She dashed off the train, up the subway steps, and started out towards The Strand. After the day she’d had, she wanted nothing more than to sink into one of their overstuffed arm chairs and just curl up into a field of warmth and coffee and the want ads from _The Village Voice._

But tonight, Kagome Higurashi was a girl on a mission. 

Investigation first; coffee and future second.

Kagome pushed open the doors of the bookstore and strode in; her eyes wandered to the little coffee shop, but she shook her head; such luxuries were for _after_ her mission was accomplished. She headed to the fiction section, and looked in the Haruki Murakami books. She ran her hand over the spines, searching for a certain red notebook she had left there about a week prior, and had come in every day since to check on.

But this time, when her eyes scanned the shelf, they saw...nothing.

Well, not nothing, per se. But definitely not a red, leather-bound journal with the words _If you dare_ … written on the cover.

Kagome froze. She didn’t know whether to jump up and down with glee, to be terrified, to be embarrassed, hurt, angry. Had someone _found_ her notebook? Had someone _found_ all her clues, and put them together?

She’d done it on a whim, really: Kagome was lonely, and a little depressed, but also, looking to have some fun. So she’d spent an entire day at The Strand, putting together the clues, making all the sheets of paper, recruiting Bankotsu to be her watchful eyes and ears when she couldn’t be there (which most of the time she couldn’t). 

But tonight, her book was missing, and that meant only one of a few things.

  1. Someone had found the notebook and completed everything, and left it with Ban (or took it themselves)
  2. Someone found it and misshelved it (dammit)
  3. Someone found and took it, and did nothing
  4. Kagome was going to growl angrily if it was 2 or 3



She stamped back over to the information desk, where Bankotsu was inputting new books into the system. “Hey, Kagome,” he said with a grin. “How was work today?”

Kagome folded her arms onto the desk and buried her face in them. “Kids seriously fucking suck,” she said. “I almost got my arm sliced like three times today because they couldn't put on their own skates.”

“That’s a rough gig,” Bankotsu commented. “But I have something that might cheer you up.”

Kagome lifted her head and gazed at Bankotsu with starry blue eyes. “Please tell me that my notebook is missing from the Murakami shelf for a reason,” she said to him.

“It’s missing for a reason,” he told her with a grin. He slid a piece of paper over to her. Kagome picked it up and read the outside.

 _To the mystery girl.  
_ _Open...if you dare_.

Kagome rolled her eyes at the cheesiness, but she had to admit: she was impressed. If the person had gotten this far, and even had Ban holding onto notes for them, then maybe they were worth getting to know. She shrugged, and unfolded the paper. And there, in large, sprawling writing, she read:

_Hey there, mystery girl!_

_Oh, you DEFINITELY got my attention.  
_ _Now, do I have yours?_

 _If you want to show me_ **_you’re_ ** _paying attention, come to this address, and look for terrifying Japanese films:_

There was an address that Kagome recognized as somewhere in Union Square. She sighed. What the _hell_ was she gonna do with this? Was this _all_ the person had to offer her? 

How boring. At least they could _try_ to give her a little more?

“Thanks, Ban,” she said. “But I don’t think I’m interested.” She tried to slide the paper back to him, but Bankotsu raised his hand.

“Nope,” he said. “The note was here for _you._ ” He gave her a long, hard, serious look. “Take it,” he said. “Take it, and read it, and do with it as you will.”

Kagome’s eyes gleamed.

“He might be cute,” Ban added.

Kagome gasped, and gripped the paper tightly, and ran out of the bookstore and into the night.

For a full day, Kagome held onto the paper, trying to decide what to do. Should she go? Should she throw away the paper and forget about her stupid experiment?

She _wanted_ to, she really did, but…

She couldn’t. 

* * *

Kagome groaned audibly as she stood in front of the address in Union Square, causing people to openly stare at her as they passed (which, for New York, was pretty spectacular). She looked down at the address, then up at the building. 

It was a pizza parlor.

Mystery Boy had sent her to a pizza parlor? Called _Hachi’s_?

She had to admit, though: she was the tiniest bit intrigued. 

Kagome pushed open the doors, and let out a gasp. The parlor was decorated lavishly for Christmas: the counter and menu signs were decorated with lights, there was a Christmas tree set up in the corner, and Christmas music warbled over the speakers. The line was long, and she couldn’t figure out what exactly she was supposed to do, so she stood in line (a girl had to be inconspicuous in these situations) and looked around. Slowly, carefully, she allowed her eyes to take in the full expanse of the pizzeria. And as she did, she noticed that this wasn’t just a pizzeria? This was a pizzeria/video store?

Light dawned in Kagome’s blue eyes; she left the line and stalked over to the collection of DVDs. Her eyes eagerly scanned the shelves, looking for Japanese horror. 

And there, right next to _Audition_ (okay, Mystery Boy was right: a totally fucking terrifying film, but she imagined more so for a man), leaning against the side of the bookshelf, was Kagome’s red, leather-bound notebook.

She nearly let out a whoop of excitement and grabbed it off the shelf. She scanned it eagerly, and saw that he had, indeed, solved her puzzle. She flipped through the pages, and her heart nearly stopped when she saw his large, languid writing:

 _You left me a challenge and a dare, Mystery Girl, so now I leave one for you.  
_ _There’s a clue for you at the top of the fourth wall. Find it, and you’ll learn a little something about me. Center of the city, but you’ve got to climb to find what you seek._

_I dare you._

Kagome snapped her fingers and looked up. She immediately pulled out her phone and typed in “rock climbing,” and dashed out the door, slamming it in her wake, the bells on the handle jingling madly.

A tall, handsome young man with a ponytail and two earrings in his left ear came out of the kitchen with several fresh pizzas for the lunch rush. “Hey, Hachi,” he said to the tanuki manning the register, “who’s so rude that they just slammed our door like that?”

Hachi shrugged. “It was just some girl, Miroku,” he said. “She was over by the videos, was looking at something, then high-tailed it out of here.”

Miroku nearly dropped the pizzas. He set them on the counter, behind the glass, then raced over to the shelf and inspected it carefully. He moaned loudly and went back behind the counter, where he grabbed the tanuki by his shoulders and spun him around so they were facing. Miroku was breathing heavily; his face was desperate.

“Hachi,” he gasped, “did...you...see...her?”

“Who?” Hachi asked.

“The _girl_.” 

“What _girl_?” Hachi shook Miroku’s hands off his shoulders.

“The _girl_ who just left here with Inuyasha’s _notebook_ , you idiot.” Miroku’s teeth were gritted, but he was trying really hard not to yell.

“Oh, her?” Hachi shrugged. “Don’t know. Dark hair?”

“That’s all you got?” Miroku was both incensed and terrified. Inuyasha had left the notebook there, with explicit instructions that both he and Hachi were to watch and see who took it, and then report back to him. But now? He had nothing.

And the dog half-demon was gonna kick his ass.

But still, in fear for his life or not, Miroku had a job to do. Because he thought maybe they could escape in one piece if he did this. 

He pulled out his phone and sent a text.

 _She was here. She took the notebook. No idea what she does next_.

Almost immediately, a message came back.

 _Did you see her_?

Miroku sighed.

 _I was in the back and Hachi missed her. We’ll watch for when she returns it, though_.

Another, almost immediate ping:

_You fucking better. I’m counting on you to do this right._

* * *

Things that Kagome loved: Christmas, her cat, her family, writing, singing, _maybe_ yoga.

Things that Kagome almost certainly did not love? Rock climbing. Or so she thought.

She was...klutzy?... on the best of days, and even though she would be held up by a Swiss seat, with a spotter to keep her from falling and breaking every bone in her body, rock climbing was definitely _not_ on her bucket list.

Until today.

And now, she stood, in front of the fourth wall at Central Rock Gym, her admission (and one hour of top-roping) prepaid by the mysterious Mystery Boy, looking up, up, up at a 40-foot wall, the top of which she just _had_ to reach, if she wanted to learn anything about the Mystery Boy who had solved her riddle and given her one of her own. She was fit snugly into her seat; her belayer, a wolf demon named Ayame, was showing her how to work the ropes and how to call out if she needed help.

“But don’t worry,” Ayame said with a grin, “I’ll be keeping a close eye on you, and if you get into trouble, I’ll help you get down, no worries.”

Kagome smiled; she was grateful she’d been paired with a female belayer, so that she didn’t have to worry about a guy watching her ass the entire way up the wall. “Thanks, Ayame,” she said. “I really need to make it up this wall, though. There’s something waiting at the top for me.”

Ayame’s face broke out into a wide grin. “Oh,” she said, “you’re here for _that_ , huh? Then you need to start over _here_ ,” and she steered a confused Kagome over to a particular part of the wall. “It’s unfair enough that he’s making you come here and do this. The least I can do is point you in the right direction.”

“He?” Kagome said, surprised. “You know him?”

Ayame laughed. “Of course,” she said. “He’s here at least once a week. Everyone knows him. But I’m sworn to secrecy,” she added. “You have to figure him out by yourself. It’s part of the dare or something?”

Kagome didn’t know where to laugh or cry. “Or something,” she said, and stood in front of the wall, unsure of where to start.

“You’ve got this,” Ayame called to her. “Just take it one rock at a time. Look for your next hand and foothold before you move. If you can plot out a few in advance, that will help, too.”

“Thanks,” Kagome called back. She looked up at the wall; close-up, it was even bigger and more imposing. _Fuck_.

How the _fuck_ did she get roped (literally) into doing this?

Oh, yeah. Mystery Boy.

She growled and placed a foot on the first rock, a hand on a hold slightly above her head, and slowly, she began her climb.

If she survived this, she was going to get him _good_ for what he was making her do.

Up, and up, and up Kagome climbed. She tried hard to follow Ayame’s advice; she kept a lookout for her next foot and handholds, and tried to plan in advance. There were a few times she got herself stuck, and had to back down before she could go up, but overall, she felt like she was making good progress. It was too bad she felt like Anna in _Frozen_ ; everytime she thought she was close to the top, she looked up, and saw she had what felt like a million miles to go. Her belayer was awesome, though: Ayame kept calling out encouraging words, trying to help her find holds, and letting her know if she was backing herself into a corner. It was slow; every muscle in her body burned; she felt like she would never reach the top.

Finally, after what felt like _forever_ (but she later looked at her phone and saw that it had only been about thirty minutes), Kagome reached the top. She hoisted herself up so that she could see over the wall, and looked around for a piece of paper, an item that didn’t belong there, something _anything._

Nothing.

Kagome huffed in anger and slammed her hand on the inside of the wall. _Dammit_! She had climbed all this way, and for nothing! She ran her hand along the wall in her frustration, and paused when she felt something tickle her fingers. 

_Wait_.

There, affixed to the inside of the wall, was a piece of paper.

Was a _note_.

Kagome steadied herself and opened the note, reading it eagerly. It was Mystery Boy’s big, swooping writing, and it said:

 _I could have made this in one leap (okay, maybe two, but next time I’ll try, just for you)  
_ _Leave the notebook back where you found it and tell me what you thought of top-roping, Mystery Girl. And, tell me what you think you’ve learned...about me._

Kagome nearly threw the paper away in frustration. What did that tell her?

Nothing. Absolutely not a goddamn thing. So he could climb this whole wall in one or two leaps? What was the big deal about that….?

“Oh, my god,” Kagome murmured. She shoved the note inside her sports bra and turned around.

“Ayame,” she called. “I’m coming back down!”

“Okay!” yelled Ayame, and Kagome started to make her slow ascent back down, carefully navigating the wall’s holds. Somehow, going down was easier than going up, and when she was only a few feet from the ground, she jumped the last bit. She pulled herself up and turned to Ayame, grinning.

“Girl,” Ayame said, holding her hand up for a high five, “you did great!”

“Thanks,” Kagome said, giving Ayame the high five and grinning. “You made this easier than I thought it would be.”

“Not a problem,” Ayame grinned back. “You did do really well. You should think about coming in and taking our belaying class. Maybe you and your Mystery Boy can do this together some day.”

“He’s not _my_ Mystery Boy…” Kagome started to say, then paused. She pulled the note out of her sports bra and read it again. Her eyes grew wide, then firm with the realization. 

She read the note again:

 _I could have made this in one leap (okay, maybe two, but next time I’ll try, just for you)  
_ _Leave the notebook back where you found it and tell me what you thought of top-roping, Mystery Girl. And, tell me what you think you’ve learned...about me._

Kagome’s heart tightened, then she let out the tiniest of moans. If she was right—if he was telling her what she thought he was telling her—Mystery Boy just got a whole lot fucking sexier.

And interesting.

“I think I know what he’s trying to tell me,” Kagome said to Ayame, “and I think I know _exactly_ what I want to tell him back.” 

She had to get out of there, and back to the pizzeria. 

But first? Mystery Boy was going to get _quite_ a note.

* * *

Inuyasha paced his apartment, waiting for the text from Miroku that would tell him Mystery Girl had come back, had left the notebook, and hopefully, that he knew what she looked like.

He growled, and drove his claws into the palms of his hands. He shouldn’t have left this to Miroku. He shouldn’t have. But yet…

He also didn’t know what to do. She seemed...skittish. Like a foal, or bunny, or some other tiny woodland animal that would run at the sight of _anyone_ who seemed suspicious. He was definitely interested in her? But he was also definitely hesitant to come on too strong. He didn’t want to chase her away. 

No. The best thing to do was to sit, and wait, even if he didn’t want to.

Because now? He felt like he would wait for her forever.

Why did he feel that way? He hadn’t felt that way about Kikyo; she had been a little nervous, but had warmed up to him fairly quickly. Mystery Girl, though…

She was intriguing. Distant. He maybe liked that? And he was...he was drawn to her. 

A buzz drew Inuyasha back to his phone. He picked it up. Miroku.

 _She was here. Notebook is back_.

Inuyasha shoved his phone in his pocket, grabbed his coat, and flew out the door. He practically ran all the way to Hachi’s, barely stopping for traffic, and when he arrived, disheveled and windy, Miroku took one look at him and jerked towards the DVD shelves with his thumb. Inuyasha nodded, went to the shelves, took the notebook off the shelf, and opened it, Miroku hovering over his shoulder.

 _So, you thought that you could send me rock-climbing, huh? I’m not exactly the athletic type, Mystery Boy! But, I managed to defeat your wall_ and _find your clue, so I’m pretty proud of myself right now. And maybe, just maybe, I’d be willing to go back and learn to belay...with the right_ **_mate_** _._

Inuyasha’s heart started doing a weird fluttery thing that it hadn’t done since Kikyo. Was Mystery Girl...already asking him out on a date? Without knowing about him? About _all_ of him?

But it seemed like she did know about him. She used the word “mate.” Only demons used the word “mate.” She absolutely had to fucking know. And, it seemed like she didn’t really care?

“Keep reading,” Miroku said, nudging his shoulder when he noticed that Inuyasha was gazing out into nowhere. “There’s more.”

Inuyasha looked down; sure enough, there _was_ more.

_And what did it tell me about you? It told me that you’re obviously very strong, if you go there at least once a week. And, if you could climb that wall in one or two leaps, that tells me that you’re a demon of some kind...and a pretty powerful one, I would also guess._

“Boy, does she have that wrong,” joked Miroku. A growl from Inuyasha, a flash of his claws, and Miroku shut up immediately. Inuyasha was silently reeling from the fact Mystery Girl not only guessed correctly that he _was_ a demon, but that she was maybe into it? Or at least didn’t hate the idea? And that she didn’t seem to fetishize him? Miroku and Inuyasha looked back down at the page.

_So I accepted, and completed, your dare: Mr. Demon Mystery Boy. And now, it’s only fair that I offer to reveal something about me...if you dare._

“Do you?” Miroku asked.

“Do I what?” Inuyasha snapped.

“Dare,” Miroku said, “do you dare?”

“Oh,” Inuyasha growled, “will you shut the fuck up? I’m trying to read here.” He ignored his friend’s protests and focused all his attention on the page:

_I’ve made a reservation for you. Tomorrow, 3pm. You’ll be having tea with a little friend, one of my choosing. Probably Felicity; she’s my favorite, after all. If you have tea with her, and are polite, you’ll learn something important about me. Besides my favorite little friend, that is._

_And once you do, be sure to tell me what you’ve learned in the notebook, and return it to its original place. I don’t want to be part of your “Operation Catch Mystery Girl” anymore..._

_Have fun! Xoxoxo_

Inuyasha stared at the last part. _Xoxoxo_ …. He felt his face heating up, as he imagined Mystery Girl’s beautiful, plush lips brushing against his own...her hands on his shoulders, pulling him in for a tight hug…

(Okay, he didn’t _know_ for a fact that her lips were plush, but fuck, he could dream, couldn’t he?)

“Inuyasha! Hey, _Inuyasha_!” Miroku was now yelling in his ear. Inuyasha jerked his head away. 

“Oi, Miroku,” he hissed, “what the _fuck_?”

“I was _saying_ ,” Miroku replied testily, “do you know where she wants you to go?”

Inuyasha paused, and thought. _Tea with a little friend...Felicity…_

Inuyasha whipped out his phone and typed “tea” and “Felicity” into his search. What he saw nearly made him hurl his phone out the window, but he just growled—loudly—instead, causing some of the customers in the pizzeria to give them a wide berth.

“Inuyasha!” scolded Miroku. “Sorry, sorry,” he called out to the customers, “my friend here just got some very bad news.” He turned back to Inuyasha. “What is your problem?”

“Miroku!” yelled Hachi. “I need you!”

“One second, Hachi!” Miroku yelled back. He looked down at Inuyasha’s phone. “Holy shit,” he said. “Holy shit. You have to go _there_?”

“Yeah,” Inuyasha said, “it looks like that’s _exactly_ where I have to go.”

“Are you gonna do it?” Miroku said. A look of true terror was shading his face.

Inuyasha sighed. This was a big fucking dare. Would he take it?

He grinned. _Of fucking course he would_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo...where could Kagome be sending Inuyasha? Let me know where you think he's going, and I will tell you if you're right in the next update, which will be soon! Thanks, as always, so much, everyone, for reading! Stay safe and well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kagome and Inuyasha send each other on dares, with unexpected results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, or any of the characters from the manga and/or anime.
> 
> Hello everyone! I hope that wherever you are, you're safe and doing well.
> 
> Welcome to the next chapter of If You Dare...! In this chapter, you'll find out where Kagome sent Inuyasha, and the results of that dare! I hope that you enjoy 💖

Promptly at 3:00pm the next day, Inuyasha stood in front of the absolutely last fucking place in New York he ever thought that he would be. 75 Rockefeller Plaza.

The American fucking Girl fucking Store.

Inuyasha growled, his ears twitching in frustration and disgust. He _could not believe_ that Mystery Girl had gotten him here. He _could not believe_ that he was about to set foot inside a store for little girls, and their moms, and gods, what the fuck was he doing there again?

Tea. He was about to have fucking tea.

Inuyasha pushed the doors open and stepped inside. He gasped and tried not to immediately vomit onsite as his senses were immediately overloaded. It was a crisp, almost antiseptic, creamy color inside, and the walls were lined with dolls, and accessories, and more accessories. In the center of the floor across the store there were massive displays with hundreds of girl dolls all doing lots of different girl things. It smelled of cleaning supplies, trying to overpower the scent of wet sheep (the smell he so often affiliated with the sweatiness of children. 

Gross.

The main focus of the display when Inuyasha first walked in was a doll named “Courtney,” who was apparently from “1986,” and featured lots of Care Bears and scrunchies and other things that he assumed meant 1986. 

The screams of delight from little girls were piercing to his dog demon hearing, and his ears curled inward and laid flat against his head, as though trying to protect themselves. He definitely didn’t blame them. If he could, he would have done the same thing.

Inuyasha grunted, and found a store directory standing off to the side in the entryway. The cafe was apparently on the lower level, so he found an escalator to take him downstairs. He went up to the cafe entrance; there was a hostess standing there, dressed all in black, a (what Inuyasha interpreted as) vacant smile on her face.

“Hello!” she said, “and welcome to the American Girl Cafe! Are you waiting for the rest of your party?”

Inuyasha nearly choked. “N—n—no,” he gasped. “I’m here alone.”

The hostess’ eye grew wide. “Oooohhhhh,” she said slowly, “you’re the _special_ party.” She stepped out from behind the lectern and waved at him. “Follow me,” she said. “We’ve got a table reserved just for you.” The hostess took off across the restaurant; Inuyasha had to jog to keep up with her. 

“Hey,” he said sharply, “don’t I get a menu?”

“Oh,” said the hostess, waving her hand again, “I believe that your, um, _friend_ , has already arranged for your menu.”

Oh, what the ever-loving _fuck_?

Inuyasha managed not to be a total asshole when the hostess showed him to his seat. He looked around; the cafe was a study in pinks and purples, with soft lighting, lots of shrubbery, and large backlit paintings of pink and purple flowers. He groaned inwardly, and choked again, trying to cover his nose to help mitigate the overwhelming scent of flowers. When he slid into his seat, he noticed that he was not alone at his table; a doll was sitting to his immediate left. He visibly blanched; the doll was wearing period clothing (was it 18th century? He reached back into his American history memory, which was faulty and problematic at best); the dress was a vibrant turquoise, with a gold apron. Her red hair was tied back in a low ponytail. She held a birdcage in one hand; Inuyasha noticed that the bird in the cage had an eight-pointed star on its chest. 

“Good afternoon,” said a pleasant, musical voice. Inuyasha’s ears swiveled, and he looked up; the waitress wore all black, with a small white apron. Her dark hair was pulled back in a high ponytail; she had a gentle smile on her face. “How are you?”

Inuyasha seriously debated how to answer that question before settling on, “Fine.” 

“My name is Ayumi, and I’ll be taking care of you today,” she said, setting a water on the table. “Shall I bring you a tea caddy so you can choose your tea?”

“Who said I want tea?” he asked, rudeness inevitably seeping into his voice.

“I believe that your meal has already been arranged,” Ayumi said, the smile still plastered on her face. “But just sit back, relax, and I believe you should get to know her friend over there.” She nodded at the doll. “Felicity might have some very important information for you. I’ll be back with hot water and the tea caddy.” Ayumi turned and left him alone at the table.

Inuyasha sat there, humiliated and fuming. What the _fuck_ was he doing there? Why the _fuck_ would he play with a fucking doll? He put his head in his hands, breathing heavily.

There had to be a reason he was there. There had to be.

“Here’s your tea,” Ayumi said, setting a teapot, a cup, and a caddy on the table in front of him. Inuyasha looked up. “I’ll have your food out here shortly. In the meantime, I see that you haven’t gotten to know your friend yet.” She nodded at the doll. “And perhaps you should take a close look at the tea caddy.” She smiled.

“Thanks,” he said gruffly. She left him alone, and Inuyasha gazed at the spread in front of him. 

The tea. Inuyasha went through the tea, looking at the different flavors. Chai; lemon ginger; Earl Grey; Orange; Sakura tea. His mind started to work. What was Mystery Girl trying to tell him from the teas? He pulled out a tiny notebook from his pocket and a pen—now that he was in a world that included a Mystery Girl who left him dares and clues, he had resolved to never be without something to write on ever again. He took out each of the packets, checking them to see if they had notes taped to them. He went through every single tea packet—he was sure he must look insane to the rest of the crowd—and grunted in frustration when he couldn’t find anything on them. So, he jotted down the first letter of each type of tea.

C, L, E, O, S

_Close_.

What did that mean? _Close_.

He looked around. What was he close to?

His eyes rested on the doll again. Her beady glass eyes stared out at him nonchalantly from her seat to his left. He reached over—he couldn’t believe he was about to do this—and plucked the doll from her seat, minding the birdcage in her hand. He turned the doll over, and over, looking again for a piece of paper, a note scrawled, something, _anything_. He even fucking sniffed her! But the doll was clean, and she merely continued to glare at him, her eyes silently judging him, he was sure.

“Here you go,” Ayumi said suddenly, coming up behind him and nearly making him jump out of his skin. Inuyasha looked up at the tower of treats before him. She set it down, put a small porcelain plate in front of him, and stood there expectantly. “Do you need anything else?” she asked. “I see that you haven’t touched your tea. Are the flavors okay?”

“They’re fine,” he said shortly. “I’m not really here to eat, you know.”

Ayumi sighed. “I would suggest, _Mystery Boy_ ,” she added, and Inuyasha snapped to attention, “that you enjoy yourself while you’re here. Eat your sandwiches, and your sweet treats. Don’t leave anything untouched.” She turned and left him, still holding the doll, like an idiot.

Inuyasha sighed, and set the doll back in her seat. He poured himself some hot water, then took a bag of Chai and added it to the water. While it steeped, he helped himself to the two pigs in a blanket that rested on the bottom tower. The little sausages were plump and juicy, and the filo dough was perfect, butter, and flaky. Despite his better judgment, he found himself enjoying the way the sausage burst in his mouth; was the food actually good here? On the next tier were a cucumber and cream cheese sandwich (with the crusts cut off), and a ham and cheese sandwich on a croissant. (Fuck, he loved a good croissant.) He sat, munching away on his sandwiches, letting the tea continue to steep, lulling himself into a relaxed state. Against his better judgment, he was having fun? The sandwiches were delicious, he had to admit; the croissant in particular was lovely and buttery, the flakes melting off his tongue. He growled his pleasure, and then sipped his tea. It was good: rich, and spicy, and hot. 

Before Inuyasha knew it, he had eaten everything on the first two tiers of the tower, and was eagerly eyeing the top. That tier was a stunning assortment of desserts: scones (complete with jam and clotted cream); fruit cut into flowers and skewered onto toothpicks; and beautiful cinnamon buns. Inuyasha reached for a scone, and cut into it with his claw (because fuck using a knife; his claw was way sharper and much more effective). He picked up the butter knife, dipped it in the clotted cream, spread it on the scone, and then repeated the process with the jam. He took a bite, and sighed with delight. The scone was also buttery (he was gonna have to go bouldering every day for a month in order to work off all the butter he was eating!), and light, and the blueberries also burst in his mouth when he bit into them. He made quick work of the first scone, took a large gulp of his tea, and then picked up a cinnamon bun. He bit into it, and again, was shocked at how delicious the cinnamon was, how the icing stuck to his fangs, how supple the dough from the bun was. He finished the first cinnamon bun, then looked at what was left. He reached for the second scone, cut it open with his claws, and gasped as a small piece of paper revealed itself to him.

_Have you figured out my secret yet?_ The note read. _Did your little friend help you at all? Her pet might be a clue...although if you need me to tell you this, maybe you’re not the man I thought you were_.

Inuyasha growled loudly, drawing attention from several nearby tables. There _was_ something here; there _was_ something with the damn doll; there _was_ a puzzle here he had to solve. Inuyasha set down the scone and picked up the doll again. He looked at her even more closely this time, inspecting her clothing, looking under her ponytail...everything he could think of in order to figure out what secret she was hiding. 

_Her pet might be a clue_ …

Fuck, he was one hundred percent the man she thought he was! Dammit.

He looked at the bird; he looked at the eight-pointed star painted on its chest. 

_Fuck_.

How had he been so stupid?

Inuyasha whipped out his phone and typed in “eight-pointed star.” 

_Kagome crest_.

He typed in “bird in a cage.”

_Kagome Kagome_. Japanese children’s song?

Inuyasha searched his mind. What could this mean?

_Kagome...Kagome…_

His head snapped up; he took a long, luxurious sip of his tea. He smiled and leaned back in his seat, then leisurely began to finish his scone, slathering it liberally with clotted cream and jam.

And as he ate, he began to think about what to do next. What would be his next plans for Mystery Girl, who had dragged him through an absolutely embarrassing experience? 

An experience which, he had to admit, wasn’t terrible (even though the little girls openly gaping at him was a little unnerving), because the food was actually kind of amazing, and was also 100% worth it, because he’d gotten a little piece of gold out of it. 

Kagome. He’d gotten _Kagome_.

He was sure: _Kagome_ was her name.

* * *

That night, Kagome entered The Strand hesitantly. She wasn’t sure if Mystery Boy had taken her bait or not; she wasn’t sure if Mystery Boy had it in him to survive an afternoon tea at the American Girl Store. And she had to admit: she did feel a teeny bit badly for making him go through what was probably a hellish experience for him, but if he managed to figure out _why_ she sent him there, he was probably going to be pretty happy with the whole thing. And it had cost her a pretty penny (she was going to have to work nights for Shippo for a while to pay for it), but it had also been worth it. Especially if he survived, and he decided to tell her all about it. Because honestly? She was _really_ looking forward to hearing about his afternoon at tea.

Kagome looked over at Bankotsu when she walked in; he shrugged, and she frowned and walked over to the stacks. She found the Haruki Murakami section, and scanned the shelves expectantly.

“Come on,” she whispered, “come on. Where is it? Where could it be?”

And then, in her direct line of vision, so clear she couldn’t believe that she had almost missed it, was the red, leather-bound, notebook. 

Kagome nearly squealed with excitement, and yanked the book off the shelf. She ran over to the coffee shop, found a nice easy chair, and settled in, completely relaxed, eager to read all about Mystery Boy’s experience.

She turned the pages, practically drooling in anticipation. When she got to the first new page with his handwriting, she froze. What would he say? Did he love it? Did he hate it?

Did he figure out her secret?

_Hey, Ka-Go-Me,_ his note read at the top of the page in big, sprawling letters.

Kagome let out a massive sigh; whether it was relief, or joy, or a little bit of fear, she couldn’t quite be sure. But why did her stomach do a little flip-flop there, at the idea of him knowing her name? Why did her heart make a little flutter?

Was she...was she becoming attracted to a man she had never met? To a man that she only knew through notes, through dares?

She shook her head quickly, trying to clear it out, and then looked back down at the page.

_So you thought you could psyche me out by sending me to the girliest fucking place you could find, huh? Well, I have to tell you...it almost worked. It really did. I’ve never been surrounded by so much pink and purple and so many little girls in my entire life. Although I have to say that they were kind of scared of me? Because I looked like maybe a pedophile? So thanks for that. And thanks for making me have to inspect the stupid doll like that too._

Kagome giggled to herself, but kept reading.

_It was worth it, you know. The food wasn’t terrible, the tea was good, and the best part of all?_

_I learned your name, Kagome._

_Kagome._

_I like writing it; I like saying it. Is that weird? I feel like it’s maybe a little bit weird. But whatever. I like your name, Kagome._

_So you wanted to know about the experience. I hope that what I wrote above answers your questions. It wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever done; it was definitely I would much rather do in fifteen years when I have daughters of my own so I don’t look like a creeper. But if it meant that I would learn your name, I would do it a hundred times over, just to get to know you better._

_Because I feel like I know you a little already, and I want to get to know you more_.

Now Kagome’s heart was beating fast; her breath was coming in short, quick gasps of anticipation. He...maybe liked her? He wanted to get to know her? Her eyes were glued to the page; she couldn’t look away. 

Not now. Not ever.

_You’ve given me a little information about you. And now, I’ll give you a chance to learn a little bit more about me. You know I like rock-climbing; you know I’m a demon (bonus info: half-demon; mom is human). But what else can I tell you about myself? Maybe it’s best to show you, and not just tell you._

_If you dare._

_Tomorrow, you have a 7:00pm private lesson at a place on the Upper West Side that specializes in the art of something that’s very important to me. I grew up learning it, and now, it’s something I do for fun. I’d like to see if you enjoy it too._

_What else can I tell you without giving it away? While some people might say that it’s_ medieval _, I would say that sometimes, a duel is necessary to settle a score._

_Where am I sending you? And why? Tell me what you think you’ve learned in the notebook and leave it at The Strand. I’ll be waiting for it—and you._

Kagome finished the note; she realized that she was blushing, and that she was still breathing a little heavily. Mystery Boy was now flirting with her through the notes! 

Just like she had been flirting with him.

Kagome’s eyes grew wide.

Could she…could she _like him_?

* * *

Kagome stood outside the Takahashi Fencing School, located on the Upper West Side, just past the Museum of Natural History, promptly at 6:50pm. She’d gotten off work at 6, changed clothes in the locker room, and carried all her belongings in a backpack that had gotten smushed at least three times on the subway that evening, twice by Santa.

The building was tall, and ornate, and made of white granite; intricate carvings decorated the front entrance. It looked more like an art museum than a fencing school.

And honestly, while a big part of her was excited to be interested in a guy who was into rock climbing, and fencing, and apparent _books_ , a tiny part of her was also terrified that she was maybe getting involved with someone who was too athletic for her. What if he imagined holidays skiing, or surfing? She was a klutz and pretty sure that both those things were out for her. And what if he wanted to take her rock climbing, and have her learn to fence? Rock climbing, she had to admit, hadn’t been _so_ bad…

And maybe fencing wouldn’t be so bad, either.

Kagome pushed open the doors of the fencing school; inside as a large, open, reception area. There was a young woman sitting at the front desk; she looked up at Kagome with large, violet eyes and smiled.

“Welcome to the Takahashi Fencing School,” she said. “I’m sorry, we don’t have any classes right now. Did you want to register for something, or get more information?”

“I—I—I’m sorry,” Kagome stuttered, “but I think I had an appointment for a private lesson?”

The girl’s eyes grew wide. She turned and started to rifle through some paperwork. “Oh, _yes_ ,” she muttered. “Here, hold on a moment.” She started pulling together a file, shoving several papers inside; when she was done, she handed the file over to Kagome. “Please,” she said, “fill this paperwork out. I would assume you don’t have any gear?” Kagome shook her head, and the girl sighed. “It’s fine,” she added when Kagome looked distressed. “Fill that out, and then I’ll get you all set up. Your lesson will be with Yash, and I’m sure that he will be able to fill you in on everything that you need.”

Kagome accepted the paperwork, and went to sit down and fill out the forms the girl had given here. There were a number of them, each more complicated than the last, and Kagome was glad that she’d come a few minutes early. When she’d filled out the last of the forms, she handed them back to the girl, who smiled and rose.

“Excellent,” she said. “Now, come on with me to the back, and let’s see what we have that will fit you.”

Fifteen minutes later, and a whole hell of a lot of embarrassment, Kagome was fully dressed in her fencing gear. She had on the breeches, the plaston, the jacket, the glove, the white shoes, and the mask. The girl (Shiori, Kagome learned was her name—one couldn’t not learn a person’s name when said person was helping one into a very embarrassing cotton jacket that zipped up the back) even gave her a foil, then walked her out into the gym. Shiori wished her luck, waved, and was gone.

Kagome gulped and looked around. The gym, which seemed to be used for both practice and competition (given the raised seating that lined the edges of the space), was enormous. And Kagome had no idea where she should stand, or how they were to begin. So she wandered out into the middle of the gym, onto the largest mat, and began to look around. She found that the mat she was standing on had a large, white circle, almost like a wrestling mat, and there was a large, white dot in the middle. Kagome closed her eyes, then opened them, and nearly jumped when she saw another person standing close to her, also in full fencing gear.

This person was taller, taller than her by at least half a foot, and had long silver hair that was tied back in a braid. Kagome couldn’t tell much else about the person: age, gender…none of that was discernible due to the mask.

“Are you Kagome?” the person asked, and Kagome realized that it was a _man_ who was speaking to her; his voice was deep, and rough; perfect for a fencing instructor, she thought.

She found that she liked it.

“I—I am,” she said, blushing even under her mask.

“I—I’m Yash,” he said, and was it her imagination, or did he sound a little strained? “I’ll—I’ll be your instructor tonight.”

“Oh,” Kagome said, surprised. “Isn’t it customary for the teacher to not wear the mask?”

The man—Yash—paused and laughed (nervously, she thought). “You—you don’t look like you know too much about what to do with a foil,” he pointed out. “I think that I might be better off if I wear the mask, and keep my face safe.”

Kagome grunted and rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said.

“This lesson will take about an hour,” Yash told her. “We’ll go over the basics of holding the foil, of the different terms for different movement, of footwork, and we’ll even try out some techniques. And if you like it, I believe that you have another two private sessions that have been paid for.”

“Really?” Kagome asked, surprised.

“Really,” Yash assured her. “Your benefactor was quite hopeful that you would enjoy your first lesson.”

“I’ll bet he was,” Kagome murmured under her breath.

“Let’s start with the proper way to hold the foil,” Yash said. He held up his own. “See how I’m holding mine? Soft hands, flexible wrist. It will help you with your attacks and parries.”

“Okay,” Kagome replied. She held up her foil. “Like this?”

Yash looked at her with what Kagome imagined was a critical eye. “More like this,” he said, crossing over to her and adjusting her foil in her hand. Kagome noticed that he froze up, his hand gripping the foil in hers, his entire body tense and seemingly alert.

He remained like this for a number of seconds, Kagome standing there awkwardly as his hand remained closed over hers. What the fuck was he doing? Was this or was this not a fencing lesson? Finally, Kagome said, “Yash?” When he grunted and looked at her, she felt his hand quiver. “It should be like this, then?”

Yash stepped back from her and nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “That—that looks good.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Right,” he said. “Let’s get you started on the terminology.”

For the better part of the next hour Yash led Kagome through the basics of fencing. She learned the difference between a parry and a thrust; she when she should riposte and when to counter-riposte; she learned appropriate footwork and some of the basic concepts of the right of attack. She noticed that Yash seemed…different…during the lesson than he had when they had first started. He tense, distracted, and she couldn’t understand why. Was she a terrible student? Was she not getting what he was trying to teach her? Was she just a boring person? Gods, what if he reported back to Mystery Boy and told him that she was a loser, that she was boring?

Kagome was slowly realizing that she didn’t want to be seen as boring; that she didn’t want to be seen as someone who didn’t try new things or was hesitant. She could be bold! Top-roping had taught her that. And maybe, just maybe, she could also fence.

“You’re doing really well, Kagome,” he complimented her after they went through a simple footwork and parry-thrust sequence. “Are you sure that you’ve never done this before?”

“I took dance classes until I was in high school,” she told him. “So I guess that maybe I retained some of my balance?”

“I would say more than,” he told her, a hint of admiration present in his tone. “I hope that you _do_ decide to come back for those other lessons. You have a lot of potential.”

“Oh,” Kagome said, shrugging and assuming the _en garde_ position, “I don’t know if I’ll have time. I work a lot; I have a couple of jobs in between freelancing.”

“You’re an artist?” he asked, attacking first.

“A writer,” she said, parrying neatly and then doing a smart riposte that nearly caught Yash by surprise.

He grunted. “If you’ve picked up writing like you’ve picked up fencing,” he said, “I would guess that you’re...pretty amazing.”

Was he...was he _flirting_ with her? When he knew she was here on a dare from another guy?

Who the hell did he think he is?

“Thanks,” she said lightly, determined not to let his compliments affect her. “I get jobs here and there as I can.” They both assumed the _en garde_ position again, and this time, Kagome attacked first. Inuyasha parried, then thrust at her once, twice. Kagome parried and returned the attack. When she actually made contact with his jacket, Kagome squealed with glee.

“Nice one, Kagome,” he complimented her. “You’re a fast learner.”

_Another one._

“Thanks,” she said, gritting her teeth under her mask.

Despite the overly flirtatious teacher...this… was this fun? She thought that maybe it was? She even felt winded, like this was a real workout. Maybe…maybe this was something she’d want to do eventually.

Kagome suddenly realized that Yash had been talking to her. She looked up, saw him in the _en garde_ position yet again, and took her own place. “You were saying?” she asked.

“I was saying,” he repeated, “that I wanted to know where I could read some of your work.”

“Oh,” she said, “there was a piece I wrote on American Girl dolls for a parenting magazine.” She paused, and they fenced for a bit before Yash made contact yet again and they broke apart. “I really enjoyed that one, because I loved them growing up.”

“And Felicity is still your favorite doll,” he added. “Right?”

Kagome stilled, the tip of the foil dropping to the mat.

“Kagome?” Yash said. “Are you okay? Should we call it a night?”

Kagome was still eerily quiet. “How,” she said, “how did you know that? How did you know my favorite doll?”

Yash was also quiet; Kagome could see his form slumping suddenly.

“Kagome,” he said. “You have to understand…”

“Was this all an act, Yash?” she suddenly shouted. “You lure me here, you pry into my life, you use this as a ploy to find out more information about me? Is Yash even your real name?” She paused and took several deep breaths. “I thought that we were getting to know each other through the notebook,” she said quietly. “I didn’t realize that subterfuge was also part of the game.”

“No, Kagome, wait,” he said. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean for you to find out…well, at all,” he admitted. “But I really do love fencing! My stupid half-brother owns this school! I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. Fuck, I probably could go to the Olympics if I was fucking dedicated! And I just…” he paused. “I guess I really wanted to share it with you, that’s all.”

Kagome’s breathing was coming in fast and thick again. She…she couldn’t believe this. She...she had tried too hard to keep the game going, to keep the fun going. She had thought they both understood this. She’d been having fun learning things about him, guessing that he was a demon, that he liked rock climbing. And she’d had fun teasing him a little bit, too, by sending him to the American Girl Store. She thought he’d been having fun too. 

But now, she felt like he’d just blown the whole thing to hell.

“I’ve—I’ve got to go,” she murmured. She had to go home. Think this through. Figure it all out.

Why the _fuck_ was this affecting her so much?

“Wait, Kagome,” Yash called after her. He nearly tripped over his foil in his effort to get to her; Kagome heard him swear loudly and go to take off his mask. But she didn’t want to stop; she found that, in the moment, she really didn’t care what he looked like.

She just wanted to get home, and be alone.

* * *

Inuyasha watched in frustration and absolute anger as Kagome fled the gym. He tried to run after her, but he’d forgotten his damn foil and nearly tripped over it in his haste.

“Fuck!” he cursed loudly, and threw his foil to the mat so he could reach behind his head to remove the mask. But by the time he had, she was already gone. Inuyasha wanted to run after her—he really did—but logic prevailed and he instead sank down onto the mat and dropped his head into his hands.

He was an asshole. He’d lured Kagome to the gym with good intentions, but under false pretenses, and she was totally right that he really wanted to see her, to get to know her, without the notebook. Because while uncovering little bits of information about each other through a notebook was fun, it really wasn’t soothing his dog demon side, which wanted to claim Kagome as his, like yesterday.

And then she’d walked into the gym, and he got close to her to show her how to hold the foil properly, and _fuck_ , he was hit with an overwhelming rush of vanilla and cherry blossom, and he’d frozen. Totally and completely frozen.

Because he knew exactly where he’d smelled that scent before.

Union Square Park. A couple of days before. An annoying girl ran into him, yelled “Merry Christmas,” then dashed off to join a group of annoying carolers. The girl with the delicious scent, that had actually lulled him into a momentary daze.

Kagome and the beautiful girl with the clear singing voice—they were one and the same.

Inuyasha had barely been able to keep it together the rest of the lesson. All he could do was inhale her gentle, calming scent; all he could see were her sparkling blue eyes; all he could think about were her lush, full lips (see? He’d been fucking right about _that_ ) pressed against his own.

Instead of completely losing his shit, though, he managed to turn the lesson into a bit of a reconnaissance mission, to learn a little bit more about her. She was a writer, freelance, probably struggling to make ends meet by the sound of it (and he felt like shit that she paid for his tea at the stupid fucking store now, for sure), but also passionate about her work. And that was all…attractive to him.

And holy fuck, she was decent with the foil! He’d never seen someone pick up fencing so quickly. She had a natural aptitude for the footwork, and she was quick-witted, meaning that she could easily parry, attack, and riposte (and counter-riposte). He’d taught her a few additional techniques, too; the conversation had been flowing, free and easy, until he slipped up.

Until he said something that only Mystery Boy would know.

And then, Kagome had lost it. And, he had to say, he was also pretty upset about the way she handled things—running away instead of staying to talk it out—at some point, the game _had_ to end, didn’t it? Why not in that moment? He got that she was hurt that he’d done this without her knowledge; that he had tried to find out more about her by resorting to subterfuge. And fuck, to some extent, maybe she was right? Maybe he should have just taken off the mask, said, “Hey, I’m Inuyasha. I’m your Mystery Boy. Would you go out with me?” and been done with it. But because he was bad with words when speaking them, he fucked up, and now he was back to where he’d been a few days before.

Lonely on Christmas.

Without Kagome.

Inuyasha growled and got to his feet. He had to do _something_. He had to apologize, to tell her how he felt. He needed…he needed to know who she was, where she lived.

He needed to know everything.

Inuyasha walked back out to the reception area. Shiori was still there; there was a class at 8:15, and she was getting the paperwork ready for sign-ins. His idiot brother was nowhere to be seen (naturally), even though it was _his_ class starting in twenty minutes. Inuyasha went over to the reception desk and leaned against the counter.

“What can I do for you, Inuyasha?” sighed Shiori. “I saw Kagome leaving here pretty quickly. What did you do to her?”

Inuyasha sighed. “I fucked it all up, Shiori,” he said. “I fucked it all up, and now I don’t know if I can fix it.”

“Maybe you can’t, and maybe you can,” Shiori said. “Do you like her?”

“I do,” he said immediately. “I like her a lot.”

“Give her a few days then,” Shiori advised him. “Give her some time to process, to think about whatever happened today—and no, I don’t want to know about it. She needs space. She needs time.” Shiori’s eyes gleamed. “And if she doesn’t come to you,” she added, “ _then_ we figure out how to get you to her.”

“Shiori,” Inuyasha said seriously, “I hope it doesn’t come to that. I fucked up, and I want her to forgive me, but I also want her to do it on her own terms. I’m afraid if I push more, she’s gonna back away completely, and then it’s really gonna be over.”

“Before it even starts,” Shiori said.

Inuyasha looked at the door, where only minutes before, Kagome had stormed out, back to wherever she lived. “Yeah,” he said. “Before it even starts.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inuyasha and Kagome both deal with the implications of Inuyasha's actions; Kagome makes a move.

Kagome lay on her bed, crying, like she’d been doing for the past hour. How _dare_ he? How _dare_ he do this to _her_? She thought that they’d had an agreement—unspoken, yes; unwritten, yes; but still, she thought they’d had an agreement. No last names; no meeting face-to-face; nothing that would reveal more than the other was ready to reveal.

And yet, he’d gone and done this thing that was just…just…

_Unbelievable._

Kagome wailed into her pillow, feeling extremely sorry for herself. How could such a thing have happened? How could _she_ let such a thing happen? Without realizing it, without knowing it?

She’d fallen for a guy she met through a notebook.

Hold on: she needed to repeat that for herself, because she sounded fucking insane.

 _She’d fallen for a fucking guy she met through a fucking notebook_.

She didn’t think it was possible, and yet...it was.

He was clever, charming, witty. He liked her. He was a half-demon. He knew her name; he _liked her name_. No one ever liked her name. Her mother had told her the story of the eight-pointed star she dreamed about the night before Kagome was born; her obaa-chan had told her the story of the song, where Kagome was maybe a prostitute? That had been an awesome day, when she yelled at her mom for maybe naming her after a hooker.

But here was this man, who _liked her name_ , and who seemed to like an awful lot about her. A man who went to the American Girl Store for her. A man who pushed her limits, who tested her resolve; a man she’d been happy to do these things for.

But also: a man who had betrayed her. Who had lied to her.

Was “Yash” even his real name? Or just a name he’d come up with to hide his true identity?

Kagome growled through her tears and hugged her pillow tighter. It was over. It was all over. She knew this. She could not go back to the Strand; she could not leave the notebook for him ever again. Not if she had to be worried about him doing underhanded things. Not if she had to worry if he was telling her the truth.

She’d been having _fun_. She’d been enjoying herself. Why did he have to go and change the rules? 

What did she expect? she wondered. Did she expect that they would go on like this forever? Maybe. At the very least, she expected to meet him when _she_ was ready. It was her notebook, after all. Her notebook, her idea…

But then he started calling the shots by giving her that fencing lesson, and while she really didn’t mind the lesson, or ogling him in the fencing gear (he was obviously built and she was definitely in favor of _that_ ), she didn’t like him making changes to their arrangement. At all.

And so, her next move was to end it. Justifiably so, she thought.

Kagome picked up the notebook from her mattress. She got up, went over to her desk, and dropped it in. She wasn’t going to look at it again. Ever.

What she was going to do was read a book. A good book. Not a book that reminded her of Yash (or whatever his name was).

Kagome had just settled into bed with the latest Elizabeth Acevedo book when her phone pinged. Kagome groaned inwardly, then leaned over to see who it was.

Shippo.

_How did things go tonight?_

Fuck. She’d totally forgotten she’d told him where she was going. She wanted at least one person to know where she was, in case she’d been walking into some kind of a trap. When she didn’t text him back, she assumed he was checking in on her, which is what a good friend would do.

Sigh. Good friend.

Kagome opened her phone and went to her messages.

_Awful. I’m forgetting all about Mystery Boy._

Her phone pinged again almost immediately.

 _I’m dropping my things off at home and then I’ll be up. See you in 20_.

Kagome sighed, and got out of bed. Of course Shippo would be worried about her. Of course Shippo would want to come and talk things out. She expected nothing less.

She just hoped that Shippo wasn’t going to try and convince her to give Mystery Boy another chance.

True to his word, the door buzzed almost exactly twenty minutes after Kagome received Shippo’s message; when she pressed the intercom, she heard Shippo’s high-pitched squeak “It’s me,” and Kagome pressed the button to let him into the building. A few minutes later, she heard Shippo’s tell-tale knock at the door: a few staccato knocks. She went to the door and looked in the peephole; there was Shippo, looking around impatiently, his big green eyes taking everything in. Kagome sighed and unlocked the door to let him in.

“You’re going to tell me everything that happened, and then we’re going to solve it,” Shippo said firmly as he stormed into her apartment. Kagome sighed and closed the door after him, then followed Shippo over to the couch. He had already flopped down, his arms flailed across the back of the sofa.

“Do you have anything to drink?” he asked her. “Because I feel like we need something to drink.”

“I have the sake my grandfather gave me the last time I was home,” she said.

“Perfect,” he said. “And I really like it a little warm.”

Kagome rolled her eyes, but went over to the (sparse) liquor cabinet. She took out the sake, and her sake set that her grandfather had _also_ gifted her (despite her protests). She poured a little sake into the bottle, then got out a small saucepan. She filled it with a little water, then set it on the stove to heat up.

“Why don’t you just microwave it?” Shippo asked her.

Kagome rolled her eyes. “Because my grandfather would stretch his arm all the way from California to shake me,” she said. “Microwaving sake? That destroys the molecules. You have to heat it this way.”

Shippo rolled his eyes right back. “Whatever,” he said. “It’s alcohol, right?”

Kagome ignored him and watched the sake carefully. When the bottle was warm, she took it out of the water, set it on the tray with two cups, and then brought it over to the sofa. She placed the tray on the low table that her grandfather called a chabudai, then proceeded to pour out a little sake for Shippo, and a little for herself. She was tempted to fill her cup to the top, but managed to refrain.

“So,” Shippo said, taking a sip of his sake, “this is good.”

“It should be,” Kagome replied. “My grandfather got it the last time he went home.”

“Sweet,” Shippo answered. “Now, let’s talk about tonight.”

“I’d really rather not,” Kagome said.

“Too fucking bad,” said Shippo. “Tell me what went wrong.”

Kagome took a big sip of sake, then refilled her cup. She moaned audibly. “ _Everything_ ,” she said. “He lied. He lied to me. He knew it was me the whole time, and pretended to be my fencing instructor who had no idea who I was. He got me to open up about different stuff. I told him about my American Girl article, Shippo! He knows that I’m a poor, starving writer. How humiliating is that? And I know nothing about him. Well,” she added, thinking on her feet now, “I know that he’s a half-demon, that he likes rock climbing and fencing, that his half-brother owns the school we were at tonight. That he’s smart. That he likes books.”

“That he likes _you_ , Kagome,” Shippo added.

Kagome shrugged. “If he likes me so much,” she protested, “then why did he lie to me? Why did he pretend to be someone he’s not? He could have just said, hey, I’m Yash (if that’s his real name), and I thought it would be fun for us to do this together? Why not just say that?”

“Would you have been receptive, though?” Shippo pointed out gently.

Kagome growled in frustration, then took another big swig of sake. The soothing liquor poured down her throat, making her feel better somehow. “Not really,” she admitted. “I was happy with how things were, Shippo. With getting to know each other slowly, and easily. No pressure of face-to-face bullshit, you know? No worrying about when, or how, or if he was going to kiss me. Just...learning about each other through dares.”

Shippo laughed. Hard. “You do understand that doesn’t sound entirely normal, right, Kagome?” he replied. “I think you’re letting your past experiences color your present one.”

“Isn’t that right and fair, thought?” she demanded. “Kouga was...wasn’t terrible, I guess. Just had _ideas_ about how we should live our future life. And Hojo was…”

“Terrible,” Shippo finished for her.

“Yes, terrible,” Kagome agreed. “But Yash seemed...different, somehow.”

“You had fun,” Shippo said.

“I...I did,” she replied, surprised by her own admission. 

Shippo was quiet for a moment. He sipped his sake thoughtfully. Kagome was a little nervous. If Shippo was quiet, it meant he was thinking, and Shippo thinking also usually meant that he was going to make suggestions that Kagome was not going to like.

“Can I ask you something, Kags?” he said.

“Sure,” she replied. “You know, you can always ask me anything.”

Shippo sighed. “Okay,” he said. He set his sake cup down on the table, then turned to look at her with wide, green eyes.

“You’ve had fun with this guy,” he said. “And I can’t help but wonder: do you feel like this one bad thing cancels out all the fun that you’ve had?”

“Shippo,” Kagome said, “that’s not really fair.”

“No, but it is,” Shippo replied. “I mean, think about it. You found a guy that you can challenge, and that challenges you. Who the _fuck_ would have thought that Kagome Higurashi would _ever_ go top-roping or take lessons in fencing? And actually enjoy doing those things? He challenges you in ways that you’ve never allowed yourself to be challenged, Kagome. And personally? I think it’s a good thing. I can’t believe that I’m saying this, but I think that he’s maybe good for you. I think that maybe, you should think about that. About how rich your life has been these past few days, and how rich your life would continue to be, if you let this guy in. 

“How long were you gonna keep things status quo, Kagome?” he added. “How long were you gonna hide behind your notebook, and just continue to dare him, and have him dare you, and write long and drippy messages to each other? I mean, he had you go _rock climbing_. You _fenced_. He likes you _so much_ he fucking taught you himself!” Shippo’s luminous green eyes turned on her; she tried to hide her own eyes, but his gaze held her steady. 

“It’s pretty clear to me that Mystery Boy is tired of playing games,” he concluded. “Aren’t you tired of playing them too?” 

Kagome got up from the sofa and paced the short length of the apartment. She turned Shippo’s comment over and over in her mind. While it was true that, on one hand, Yash (or whatever his name was) had made her feel incredibly betrayed and had hurt her feelings, it was also true that, on the other hand, Kagome’d had _fun_ —maybe more fun than she’d had in a long time, too—when she was writing to Mystery Boy, when she was doing his dares, when she was getting him to do her dares. That was fun. That was exciting. 

And she also couldn't deny her attraction to him. She’d already gone through the list of ways that he turned her on: his intelligence, his wit, his mettle. And until tonight, she’d been really excited to see what else he had in store for her, because she really did enjoy the way that he pushed her limits. And...seeing him in the fencing gear...tall, obviously well-muscled. If she was being honest, she _really_ wanted to know what he looked like, and with a little distance from the incident, she was already kicking herself for running. For not stopping to see (what she suspected) was a gorgeous face to go with that gorgeous body. She didn’t hear Shippo’s snicker when her scent started to change. 

Was Shippo right? Was it worth throwing away the possibility of something over one little thing? Over something that, in retrospect, she could understand, even a little? Was it time to stop playing these games?

“You know, demons are extra protective and possessive, Kagome,” Shippo said. “Even me. I’m super protective of you. _But_. I wouldn’t be suggesting you even think about pursuing this unless I felt like it would be a good thing for you to do. With that in mind, what do you want to do? What choice are you going to make?”

Kagome thought about Shippo’s words. Once again, he was not wrong. But, could she put herself out there again? And, what would she say?

Ultimately, she realized, none of it mattered. Worrying about putting herself out there. Worrying about what she _would_ say. About what _he_ would say. The truth was, she was already out there, and she was already saying things—doing things—that were no longer status quo for her. She’d already changed her life. She’d already made the decision. 

Her life was better, richer, more spontaneous—with Mystery Boy it. _She_ was better with Mystery Boy as part of her life. She _wanted_ him to be a part of her life.

So, she decided. It was time to end the game. It was time to meet him where he was, as he was, as _she_ was. 

And see where this all went.

“Shippo,” Kagome said, turning to her friend. “Do you think you might be willing to help me with one final dare for Mystery Boy?” 

Shippo grinned, and Kagome could see all his razor-sharp fox teeth. “Kagome,” he said, “It would be my absolute honor to help you.”

Kagome smiled back. “Great,” she said. “Get dressed. The Strand is open for a while longer. Let’s see if we can’t do this tonight.”

She knew just what she wanted to say to Mystery Boy, but it was definitely going to take additional help. Help that she felt like Shippo would be more than willing to provide.

* * *

“Come on, Inuyasha, don’t feel so down!” Miroku had been trying for the better part of the morning to comfort his friend, but so far, nothing seemed to assuage his pity party.

Miroku hadn’t been able to get much out of Inuyasha about what had happened the night before; the only thing that was for sure was that Inuyasha had fucked up somehow, and now, Kagome hated him. The last was a fact that Miroku highly doubted was true, but when Inuyasha was in one of his moods, it was basically impossible to tell him anything. 

Miroku sighed, and pushed another slice of pizza in Inuyasha’s direction; he grunted his thanks, then proceeded to shove most of the piece in his mouth in one movement. Miroku rolled his eyes. Could Inuyasha _be_ any more obvious? He was so into this girl that even his half-brother could have figured it out (and Miroku knew; Sesshomaru was fairly clueless when it came to any matters relating to the heart). And so far as Miroku knew, things were going well; but when Inuyasha had come into Hachi’s that afternoon, demanding the miko special, Miroku knew that something was wrong. 

“Please, Inuyasha,” Miroku cajoled, “can’t you tell me what happened?”

Inuyasha tore off another giant piece of the slice of pizza with his fangs. “Not gonna tell you,” he said in between huge bites. “Too fucking embarrassing.”

“If it’s too embarrassing,” Miroku insisted, “then let me share in the embarrassment with you.”

Inuyasha grunted, tore off another piece of the pizza slice, and sat for a moment, chewing sloppily, staring right at Miroku, daring him to comment. When Miroku refused to take the bait, Inuyasha sighed.

“Okay,” he said, “I’ll talk.”

Miroku leaned forward over the counter. “Spill,” he said. “I want to know...everything.”

“There’s not much to tell,” Inuyasha snapped. “Not much more than what you know. Just that…”

“Just what?”

“Just that I may have sent her to the family fencing academy for a private lesson by a certain half-demon named ‘Yash,’” Inuyasha said, hanging his head. 

Miroku let out a low whistle. “Wow,” he said, “that was pretty…”

“Stupid,” Inuyasha grumbled.

“I was gonna say ‘brazen,’” Miroku said, “but, sure. Let’s go with that.”

“What am I gonna do, Miroku?” Inuyasha burst out suddenly, slamming his fist on the counter. Several customers in line visibly moved away from Inuyasha. “I think I fucked this up. I thought that, she’s not turned off by me being half-demon. She used the word _mate_ in one of her notes! I thought…” He rested his head in his hands. “I thought that maybe she would accept me for me,” he added. “I thought we’d have this great session, and we’d take off our masks, and there we would be, as we are, game over.” He growled. “Apparently I was wrong,” he grumbled. “Apparently she wasn’t ready and I pushed her too hard. And now...What if she doesn’t want to see me again? What if she’s mad at me forever? What if…”

“You know that all those ‘what if’s’ are dangerous, Inuyasha,” Miroku reminded him. 

“Keh,” said Inuyasha, “What am I supposed to do?”

“Go to the Strand,” Miroku suggested. “If the book is there, then you know that it’s not over.”

“And if it isn’t there…” Inuyasha said dully.

“Then you have an answer, one way or the other,” pointed out Miroku. “I think you should do it.”

Inuyasha grumbled and took another large bite of pizza. What Miroku said made some level of sense, which was rare for Miroku. But he _was_ right: one way or another, Inuyasha needed to seek some closure. He hadn’t really had it with Kikyo, and now, with Kagome, he needed to know, one way or another, whether or not she wanted to be him. Or at least to give it a go.

“All right,” Inuyasha said, pushing the stool back and getting to his feet. “I’ll go.”

“Let me know what happens, either way?” Miroku wasn’t going to let his friend wallow, or rejoice, by himself.

Inuyasha paused, and grinned at his friend. “I’ll text you,” he said, then turned, and left the pizzeria, calling out, “thanks for the pizza! I owe you!”

“He sure does,” Hachi grumbled. “ _How_ many pieces did Inuyasha eat exactly, Miroku? Because they’re coming out of your paycheck.”

Miroku turned to his boss, and laughed nervously. 

Did he dare tell Hachi that Inuyasha ate the equivalent of two pies?

* * *

Once upon a time, the Strand had been Inuyasha’s place of refuge. A place where, no matter how he was feeling, he would be able to come, and relax, and lose himself in the world of books for a few hours. It had been quiet alone time for him, and Inuyasha had reveled in the soft silence of the bookstore.

But now? He paced outside the entrance, growling softly, trying to psyche himself up enough to go inside and see if the notebook was in its usual place.

What if it wasn’t there? What if he’d blown it with Kagome for good?

Or...what if it _was_ there? What if he _hadn’t_ blown it? What then?

Inuyasha dropped to his haunches and ran his claws through his hair. He needed to know...one way or another, he needed to know. But could he? 

Once he stepped inside that store, his destiny would be laid bare before him, and...could he handle it, no matter which way it went?

Inuyasha took one, two, three deep breaths. His phone pinged; he pulled it out of his jacket pocket and looked down.

Miroku.

 _You’ve got this! No matter what happens, I promise to have a bottle of vodka and a sympathetic ear_.

Inuyasha scoffed. He wanted to growl and shove his phone back in his pocket, but he had to admit that it felt...good...weirdly, oddly good...to know that Miroku had his back on this. Inuyasha took a deep breath, and pushed open the door. 

The Strand on Christmas Eve looked pretty much as it did every other night of the year. It wasn’t open quite as late, but it was still open fairly late, so as to accommodate all those last-minute shoppers. Bankotsu still manned his place at the information desk; he nodded at Inuyasha when he saw the half-demon wander into the store. Inuyasha nodded back, then gulped, and looked towards the stacks. He was going to have to do this. He was going to have to find out.

Had Kagome rejected him? Or...was there hope?

Slowly, Inuyasha made his way over to the Haruki Murakami section of the book shelves. Would it be there? Would there be a red notebook waiting for him? His heart was in his throat; his mind was full of Kagome, and only Kagome, and always Kagome.

Inuyasha scanned the bookshelves slowly. He saw the Murakami books, and his eyes dragged over each title... _Norwegian Wood, Hard-Boiled Wonderland, Kafka on the Shore_ …

And then, there it was. Bright and vibrant against the dark print of the book spines.

A red, leather-bound notebook.

Inuyasha grabbed it off the shelf and ran over to the coffee shop, where he instantly settled down into an easy chair. He opened the notebook to the most recent entry and began to read, his heart in his mouth:

 _Hey, Mystery Boy_ , 

_So. I am kind of mad at you. I thought that we had an (unspoken) agreement: no last names, no prying into each other’s life beyond what we were willing to offer in the notebook or through the dares. To trick me into showing up at a place where you would be? Where you would be_ **_teaching_ ** _me? That was pretty low, you know. I was feeling betrayed, because I would have hoped that you would have been able to tell me if you wanted to meet face-to-face. And yet, you didn’t. I don’t know how I would have felt about doing it, but I would have appreciated the chance to have the opportunity to have some input into that decision, regardless._

_But now, it’s done, and we’ve met, relatively speaking. And I shouldn’t have run. I’m sorry that I did. As mad as I was (and still am, a little), I shouldn’t have run. I should have stayed. Talked with you. About why you wanted to do this. So I could hear it from you, and not from my own mind, which to be honest, is going a little crazy with speculation right now. Why did you want to end the game? Force my hand? Suddenly it was so real, and I wasn’t prepared. But I guess that, whether you told me beforehand or not, I wouldn’t have been prepared. And maybe...maybe that wouldn’t have been such a bad thing. To see you, the REAL you, and to let you see me, the REAL me._

_So what does that mean for the future? What does that mean for us, from here? I have to be honest: I don’t really know. I think that I like you, Mystery Boy. I think that I like you_ **_a lot_** _. Enough to want you to see me. Enough to want to see you. And I think that’s why this hurts so much. Because I would have hoped that you liked me enough that you would be willing to talk to me when you wanted to meet me for real. Because ending the game? That makes this real._

_So the question remains: are you ready to make this real?_

_And the answer, Mystery Boy, lies with you._

_If you want to see if we have a future, I have one more puzzle for you. If you can solve it, I think that the thing that you desire will be waiting for you at the end._   
_Turn the page, Mystery Boy…_

_If you dare._

Inuyasha nearly tore the page in two trying to get to the next one. There, in front of him, was another hangman puzzle, with another riddle:

_A very famous Christmas story is your first book. But don’t be fooled: you need to go to the original, not the latest edited collection._

Inuyasha glared at the page. That was it? That was the only clue he got?

He sighed, and racked his brain for any hint of what it might be. Because he was not going to stop until he could figure out what she meant.

 _A very famous Christmas story_.

Could it be?...

Inuyasha took off through the stacks. He bypassed the Christmas books, heading instead for the memoirs section of the bookstore. He looked for the ‘S’ section, and then scanned it rapidly, looking for the book he needed:

Jean Shepherd’s _In God We Trust: All Others Pay Cash_.

He pulled the book off the shelf, and turned the page. Inuyasha smirked; of course Kagome would reference the original book the film was based on, and not the adaptation publishers had created once the movie was such a hit. And he’d been right to figure that out. He saw Kagome’s careful directions; this time, there were several pages that he needed to turn to, and when he was done, he had four letters towards Kagome’s message. He turned the page of the notebook, and found the next clue.

 _We go from the funniest, to the most depressing, Christmas story ever. Don’t burn out trying to find this one, though_.

Fuck. Were they all gonna be Christmas stories?

If so, Kagome was going to try his patience.

His next stop was the fairy tale section, where he looked for a copy of _The Little Match Girl_. The notebook again directed him to a couple of different pages, words, and letters; when Inuyasha turned the page of the notebook, he was off again.

Kagome led him all around the store; her theme was indeed Christmas, but the books were all different genres; there was a book about the history of Christmas carols, another about cooking the perfect Christmas dinner, and yet another that was a novelization of _Miracle on 34th Street_. The weirdest one was a children’s book about dinosaurs and Christmas, but whatever; every book, every letter, brought him closer to Kagome.

At long last, he had all the letters that he needed to unscramble. He squatted down on his haunches, right in the middle of the children’s section; he pulled a pen from his jacket pocket, and started to work out the message. 

It took several minutes, and shuffling consonants and vowels around, but at long last, Inuyasha thought that he had the message:

_I don’t want to be alone on Christmas. Do you?_

_If not, go to the very last page of the notebook_.

Inuyasha sucked in his breath. She was...she wasn’t mad. Not really. And she...she wanted to be with him. On Christmas. On fucking Christmas. On the day he wanted to be with absolutely no one. She wanted to be with him.

A warm feeling started in his heart, and slowly spread throughout his body. He found himself smiling wider, and wider, and his body grew warmer and warmer. 

She...no.

 _Kagome_. Wanted to be with _him_.

Inuyasha turned to the last page of the notebook. There was one last message there. It wasn’t in code; it wasn’t scrambled or anything. It simply read:

_Find the kitsune at the pop-up market. Tell him who you are. Show him this notebook._

Inuyasha jumped to his feet, jammed his pen and the notebook into his pocket, and took off for the pop-up market down the street at Union Square. This _had_ to be where the kitsune was. He knew that she frequented this market. He knew that she at the very least sang carols there. 

There just _had_ to be a kitsune at that market. There just had to be.

Inuyasha reached the pop-up market at Union Square in mere minutes, thanks to his demon speed. If he could have flown from rooftop to rooftop, he would have, but instead, he had to settle for running and leaping over traffic. The pop-up market was teeming with people; like the Strand, people everywhere were desperate to get in their last-minute shopping. Inuyasha paused at the entrance to the market and sniffed the air. He hated using his demon senses so blatantly in public, but he had to do it. His nose could easily sniff out a kitsune, and the faster he did it, the better. It was already 8:30, and the market would be closing at 9. 

In no time at all, the scent of a kitsune reached his nose. Inuyasha growled and took off through the crowds; he tried not to knock people over as he barreled through the market, but he had to admit; it wasn’t easy. He definitely stopped more than once to set humans back on their feet, returning their parcels to them with a gruff apology; he didn’t have time to bother with niceties. Inuyasha continued tracking the kitsune through the crowds, until he got to the other end of the market. And there he was.

The booth was crowded with customers, but Inuyasha could still clearly make out the kitsune’s scent. He (politely, sort of) pushed his way through the crowd to get to the front of the line, much to the chagrin of the people who’d been waiting so patiently.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the kitsune squeaked, “you’ll just have to wait your turn like everyone el…” He looked up; his wide green eyes took in Inuyasha’s form. He leaned forward, reached out, and grabbed Inuyasha by the hair, pulling him close. “You’re _him_ , aren’t you?” the kitsune hissed. “Mystery Boy?”

“Ummm...yes?” Inuyasha said hesitantly. “Kagome sent me to see you. She told me that I should tell you who I am, and that I should show you...this.” He pulled the notebook out of his pocket and dropped it on the counter between them.

Shippo barked, then let go of Inuyasha’s hair, Inuyasha rubbing his head and snarling slightly at the kitsune. “It’s really you, isn’t it?” the kitsune said, eyeing Inuyasha dangerously. Inuyasha had no qualms about the fact that he could waste the little kitsune should the kitsune decide to attack him. But, this was Kagome’s friend, and he would be nice. 

“It’s me,” Inuyasha said, trying desperately to keep the impatience out of his voice.

“Fine,” the kitsune snapped. “This is for you.” He thrust a piece of paper at Inuyasha. “If you fuck her up,” the kitsune added, “I will hunt you down and kill you.”

Inuyasha rolled his eyes. “Whatever, runt,” he retorted. 

“No, you stupid dog!” the kitsune snapped again. “ _You_ don’t get it. Kagome is special to me. She’s one of the few human friends I have. You _will_ be nice to her. Don’t fuck with her heart again. You got it?”

“I promise,” groused Inuyasha, but his eyes were shining and earnest. He looked down at the paper, then back at the kitsune. “The Lower East Side?” he grumbled. “At least it’s not too far.” He paused. “You got any Christmas flowers?”

The kitsune’s eyes gleamed. “I do, dog,” he retorted. “But for you? It’s gonna cost double.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Inuyasha made it through Kagome's puzzle, and knows where she is! What will he do when he gets to her? Find out in the next update, and as always, thanks everyone for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inuyasha goes to see Kagome at her apartment on Christmas Eve. They talk, and do...other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, or any of the characters from the manga and/or anime.
> 
> Hello everyone! I hope that wherever you are, you're safe and doing well.
> 
> Welcome to the final chapter of If You Dare...! I am a firm believer that birthdays should be celebrated all month long, so here is a special final birthday wish for [WitchyGirl99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchy99)! Witchy, I hope that you've enjoyed your birthday month, and we're so happy that you're joining us over here on Ao3 (let the party continue)!
> 
> This chapter contains sexual content, so please do heed the tags. And enjoy!

Kagome was restless and exhausted.

After Shippo had left the night before, she sat up for hours, staring at the notebook, trying to decide what to do. Shippo was right; she knew that he was. But yet, something inside her was still hesitating; her heart was screaming at her to get to the Strand first thing in the morning, and leave the damn notebook. Her head, though (her goddamn fucking head!) was telling her to wait. 

In the end, she waited. 

And then cursed herself the entire day.

All day behind the skating counter, Kagome could scarcely pay attention to the tourists who didn’t know what size skate they needed. She nearly cut herself on the blades several times in her attempts to help kids with skates _again_ , but this time, because it was hard to focus.

She should have dropped the notebook off as soon as she left the house. She should have. 

And now? It might be too late.

Instead of first thing in the morning, she dropped the notebook off at The Strand on her way home from work. And since then, she hadn’t been able to settle down. She tried to take a nap; she tried to read a book; she tried to watch Christmas movies on her laptop; she tried to make herself some dinner (which, she did, and which she also didn’t have the stomach to eat). Buyo meowed at her, but when she only pet him absently, he grumbled and went back into the bedroom, presumably to hide himself under her bed and sleep. She ended up sitting on her couch and staring into space at her Christmas tree, the lights twinkling against the garland, casting an ironically cheery glow around the apartment. Under the tree, where once upon a time there would have rested all the presents she planned to take home to her family, lay nothing but a flannel tree skirt. She grumbled and thought seriously about turning off the lights, but decided not to. That would have meant getting up. And she couldn’t.

Because honestly, all that she could think about was _him_.

What if she had fucked up? What if she had left the notebook too late? She could have gone first thing in the morning if she had _really_ wanted to. Did that mean she _didn’t_ want him to find her? Because that thought made her sick to her stomach. Really sick to her stomach.

 _No_ , she told herself. _Don’t think like that. You got there in time. He likes you. He will come to you._

 _He has to_.

But every minute that ticked by assaulted Kagome’s confidence. 

When her phone clicked to 9:00, even though she had left the notebook only a few hours before, Kagome decided to call it.

Mystery Boy was not coming.

She went to her liquor cabinet; that bottle of sake was still there, along with half a bottle of whiskey. Kagome took the whiskey out, grabbed a glass, and poured herself a finger. She returned the bottle, then settled herself back on the couch. She opened her laptop, and decided that the latest Christmas movie on her favorite streaming service was just what she needed.

Just because it was Christmas Eve, and she was alone, didn’t mean that she couldn’t get into the spirit, right?

Kagome had no sooner sat down and hit play on her laptop that there was a buzz at her door. Kagome’s heart leapt for a moment, but she tamped it down, realizing that at such a late hour, it had to be Shippo, coming to soothe her wounded soul.

She got up and went to the door. She pressed the buzzer. “Who is it?” she said into the intercom.

“Umm—the kitsune sent me,” said a familiar gruff voice. “It’s Mystery Boy.”

Kagome’s heart stopped. Literally stopped. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t do anything.

He. Had. _Come._

He was really here. He was really downstairs, at her apartment building door.

Kagome took a breath. A deep, cleansing breath. Whatever she had learned from yoga. She prayed it worked.

She pressed the intercom again. “Come on up,” she said, then hit the button that would let him into the building. 

While she waited, Kagome ran to the bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror. Did she look okay? Was everything where it should be? She opened her mouthwash and gargled some quickly, then spat it out. She debated putting on makeup, but thought that might be extreme, even for her, because it was after 9:00 on Christmas Eve and she’d clearly been home for awhile. She looked down at her clothes. Leggings, tank top, cardigan. Not earth-shattering, but also not hideous. Simple was better. Yes.

The doorbell buzzed, and Kagome jumped a mile in the air. She scurried over and looked in the peephole. Sure enough, there was a man standing there. Silver hair tied up in a ponytail, golden eyes gleaming at her through the peephole. Kagome let out a gasp.

Were...were those...puppy dog ears?

“Who is it?” she asked through the door.

“It’s your Mystery Boy, Kagome,” he said, “open up.”

“Tell me something that only you would know,” she replied, her voice quavering when he referred to himself as “her Mystery Boy,” “and I’ll let you in.”

She heard him scoff. “You sent me all over the Strand tonight to find every damn Christmas book there is,” he said. “Although the first one was my favorite. I fucking love Jean Shepherd.”

That was good enough for her. “One second,” Kagome called, and undid the locks on her door. She finally got them all undone, and yanked the door open. 

It was the first time she was seeing him, _really_ seeing him, and Kagome’s breath caught. His hair, which she’d seen through the peephole, was long, and thick, and while most of it was tied up away from his face, long strands framed his face, and tendrils had escaped out from his ponytail, curling cutely around the nape of his neck. His eyes were a stunning gold, and seemed to shine with a light of their own. His brows were strong, as was his nose, but his smile was quiet and sheepish. His ears—his _cute, cute_ , puppy dog ears—

“Are—are ya gonna let me in?” he asked hesitantly.

Kagome realized she’d been staring at him, her mouth hanging open slightly. “What?” she replied, somewhat blankly. “Oh, yes, please.” She stepped aside, and for the first time, noticed that he was holding a rather large bouquet of flowers in his arms. “You—you—” and she found that she couldn’t finish the sentence, but instead gestured lamely at the flowers in his arms.

“Oh!” He looked down at them, then held them out. “They are for you,” he said. “I—I’m sorry for taking so long to get here. For being such a fucking ass. You deserve better. You really do, Kagome.”

His ears were twitching, and she found that she could barely think, that she could barely process anything he was saying. 

“What’s your name?” she said suddenly, closing the door.

“What?” he asked.

“Your name,” she repeated. “What’s your name?”

“Inuyasha Takahashi,” he replied. “My idiot half-brother owns the fencing academy, yes.”

Kagome blinked, and stared at him some more. “You seem familiar to me,” she said. “Have...this is gonna sound crazy...but have we met?”

Inuyasha grinned, and Kagome saw two fangs peeking out from between his lips, and her eyes grew wide. She’d learned from her last demon boyfriend...fangs _did things to her_. Things she was maybe anxious to repeat. With him. Inuyasha. 

Yes.

He smirked, and Kagome saw one fang peek below his lower lip, and she blushed. His grin got a little wider. 

“Here,” he said, “take the flowers. Please. Or I’ll feel like more of an ass.”

Kagome accepted the flowers. They really were beautiful; roses, and white carnations, and holly branches. She pressed her face into the bouquet and inhaled. “Lovely,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“Keh,” he said. “It’s the fucking least I could do.”

“Have a seat on the couch,” she said. “I’ll go put these in some water.”

Inuyasha instantly obeyed, looking around her apartment as he settled into his seat. He saw the Christmas tree, colored lights twinkling, angel on the top with her candle glowing, and grimaced. “Nice tree,” he commented. 

“It’s the least I could do,” she replied. “Try to bring a little Christmas spirit into this place.” Inuyasha growled softly, so low that Kagome couldn’t hear her. 

Kagome busied herself putting the flowers into a vase, and filling it with water. She brought the vase back to the chabudai and set it down, looking at the bouquet admiringly. “Thank you, Inuyasha,” she said, “really.”

“Like I said,” he replied. “Ain’t no big deal.”

They sat in an awkward silence for several minutes, unsure of where to go next. Kagome twisted her hands in her lap nervously; what could she say to him? What _should_ she say to him? And how?

“Hey, Kagome,” Inuyasha said suddenly, “can I ask you a question?”

She looked up. “Sure,” she replied.

“Why—why’d ya do it?” When she looked at him blankly, he continued. “The notebook. At the Strand. Why?”

Kagome smiled in spite of herself. “Because,” she said, “For the first time ever, I was gonna be alone on Christmas. I can’t afford to fly back to my family in California, and I was feeling...alone. So, I thought maybe, I’d take a chance and see if there was someone else out there who was also a little bit lonely too.” She grinned suddenly. “And if I could find someone who was a bookworm, and who was maybe able to keep up with me, just a little.” She paused. “Why did you answer?” 

His golden eyes met her blue ones. “I—I don’t really know why,” he confessed. “It was a dare, and I like dares. But also…” Now he was the one who paused. Why else did he answer?

“You intrigued me,” he said at last. “You intrigued me, and hardly anyone intrigues me. And I thought…” _Could he say this?_ “I thought that, yeah. The dare got me, but _you_ kept me around. Wanting to get to know _you_ , _Kagome_...that took me way beyond any dare.

“And,” he added, “I...am also alone this year on Christmas. Not that it matters to me, I hate the holiday anyway, but still…” He took a slow breath. “My mom went to Hawaii with her new boyfriend, and my half-brother’s an idiot. I thought I’d much rather be alone.” He looked at her; she took in a slight breath. “Until I met you.”

They were both quiet for a moment. Inuyasha’s ears were focused completely on her; his eyes watched every tiny move that she made. He realized that he’d been watching her, from afar, this whole time, just like right now. He’d been waiting to see what her next move would be, and how he would respond. He’d been waiting for the moment when the game would end, and they could let down their guard, and now it had. And she was beautiful, and she was...sad?

Yes, her scent was lush—vanilla and cherry blossoms—but it was tinged with a hint of sadness. He wondered why. Perhaps because she was alone on Christmas? Because she missed her family? 

He realized that he was not the only one who felt alone (even if he had been denying this fact to himself the entire time), and that maybe, Kagome’s notebook had brought together two lonely souls who needed each other. 

Who needed to build a connection with someone. For Christmas, and beyond.

Her blue eyes were dreamy; her fingers traced the petals of the flowers in the vase. He noticed they were long, and nimble; he found himself wondering if she’d ever played piano. He thought she’d be able to span the keys quite well.

And then, he wondered if she might be able to span other things quite well, too, and he nearly choked on his own saliva.

“You okay?” Kagome asked anxiously. “Do you want some water?”

Inuyasha coughed again. “S—sure,” he got out, and Kagome hopped back up to get him a glass of water.

While she was gone, Inuyasha tried to focus his mind. He was here...to do what, exactly? To tell her how he felt? To tell her that he wanted to see her, for real, like as a boyfriend? To tell her that he wanted to see where this went? To kiss those fucking exquisite lips? 

“The park!” Kagome shouted suddenly, and Inuyasha jumped in his seat. “I know where I’ve seen you before,” she said, a little quieter. She handed him his water, and he accepted eagerly, drinking it down in big gulps.

“The park,” she said. “I nearly ran you down, and you swore at me.”

“I swear at everyone,” he said.

“It wasn’t very nice,” she replied.

“You smell good,” he said, then clapped his hand over his mouth as her eyes went wide.

“I—I’m sorry,” she said, her voice cracking a little. “Did...did you say that I smell good?”

Inuyasha went bright red. _Fuck_. 

But what the hell. He’d already fucked things up badly. It couldn't possibly get any worse.

“Yeah,” he said. “I was gonna shout after you some more, but you smell like...cherry blossoms, and vanilla. And it’s really fucking divine. So...I couldn’t. But I followed you to the carolers,” he added, “and I heard you singing. You...have a nice voice.” His ears drooped. He was a freak; there was no way in _hell_ she was gonna…

“You...you think I smell good?” she said. “And that I have a nice voice?”

He looked up at her; her face was shining at him, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “You—you do,” he said gruffly, turning away from her in his embarrassment.

“Inuyasha.” The way her voice traveled over his name gave him shivers; he couldn’t help but look up and into her deep blue eyes, which held him steady and gave him an anchor he didn’t realize he was missing. 

“Kagome.” She was all he could see; she was all he could scent; she was surrounding him. He wanted suddenly to reach out and draw her to him. He needed to know what she felt like, beyond just a touch of fencing gloves. He needed to feel her skin against his; he needed to feel her lips against his. 

Was it moving too fast if he touched her? If he brought her close to him?

Before he could tell his body no, Inuyasha reached out and placed his hand against Kagome’s cheek. She shivered; her skin was soft, and warm, and Inuyasha’s thumb gently stroked her cheekbone. “Inuyasha?” she whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You—you smell good and I—I needed to know how you feel.”

She smiled, and leaned into his touch. “I think you feel pretty good, too,” she said. “How am I supposed to be angry when you touch my cheek like that?”

Inuyasha’s breath caught; maybe he could take a chance?

“There are other things that feel good, too, Kagome,” he whispered. “Like...like…”

“Like kissing?” She couldn’t help herself. Now that he had touched her, any negative feelings she’d been harboring instantly flew out the window. She was remembering the Inuyasha from the notebook, who was witty, and fun, and teasing. Who took a dare, and who wrote good riddles. The Inuyasha she was attracted to.

The Inuyasha she wanted to kiss.

“Yes,” he breathed, “like kissing.”

Kagome blinked her eyes, and he drew her to him gently. She sat on the edge of the couch, and leaned in, allowing his hand on her cheek to guide her. 

Inuyasha held his breath and closed his eyes. She was close; so fucking close…

And then he nearly jumped out of his skin, because Kagome closed the rest of the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. 

Her lips were just as soft as he’d imagined; she rubbed them against his own seductively, and Inuyasha moaned. She used that opportunity to slip her tongue between his lips, and Inuyasha nearly buckled over when he felt her caressing his fangs lightly, before going on to wrestle with his tongue. Hers was hot, and pulsing, and massaged his own seductively. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close; her body was small in his arms, and her scent was surrounding him. 

For the first time in a long time, he wanted to be with another person. Like how he had been with Kikyo... _no_. This was more than Kikyo. He found that he wanted... _more_...of Kagome. Maybe...he wanted _all_ of Kagome. And not just her scent, or her beautiful eyes, or her silky hair, or the outstanding body he was sure was hiding underneath her cardigan. What she liked to do when it snowed. Her favorite book. If she liked hot chocolate. If she liked classic movies. Why she decided to stay in New York. If she would consider being with a half-demon...

But how much of herself would she be willing to give?

And how much of himself would _he_ be willing to give?

Everything. If she would take him, he would give her everything.

“Inuyasha,” Kagome murmured against his lips, “you—you’re a good kisser.”

“Are you sure?” he purred. “Maybe you should go back for another inspection to make sure that your initial conclusion was accurate.”

“What are you,” she asked huskily, “some kind of a science major?”

“Finance, actually,” he replied, “and actuary science. I’m quite good at making predictions. And I’m an excellent researcher.”

“Ah, so _that’s_ where the desire to solve mysteries comes from,” she breathed, then covered his lips with hers again.

This time, Inuyasha growled and lifted her up and into his lap. She was light, and fit over his hips perfectly. Kagome moaned as his groin brushed up against the heat of her sex, and she shifted so that she was kneeling above him; her breasts pressed into his chest, and he slid his arms under her cardigan, seeking out her skin. He needed to touch her; when the pads of his fingers scraped against her flesh, she breathed harshly and shoved her tongue into his mouth again, and he pressed his claws into her shoulders lightly, but enough for her to know they were there.

Kagome reached up and yanked at his ponytail; when her fingers found his hair tie, she gently pulled at it until it came out and his hair fell loose about his shoulders. Kagome immediately lost her hands in his hair, marveling at how soft and silky it was. 

It had been...awhile...for her...to be so intimate with another person. To feel like she could give of herself so freely. But she was right; Inuyasha’s move at the fencing academy had lit something up inside her, had broken through her barriers, and forced her to think about why she was doing what she was doing. And if she truly wanted to be alone. If she wanted to take chances again.

With him? With Inuyasha? 

Holy shit. Yes. She _did_.

Kagome’s fingers found their way up to his ears; when she began to massage them lightly, she nearly giggled at how they twitched under her touch, and how he growled and pressed her even closer to him.

“Do you like that?” she breathed, and gave each ear a little tweak.

He nearly moaned with the pleasure that radiated through his entire body. How did she know exactly how to touch him? To heat his blood like this?

Not even Kikyo had known to do this.

“Inuyasha,” she murmured against his lips, her fingers still lightly brushing against his ears. She could feel his cock straining against his pants; she could feel every inch of him responding to every inch of her. It was like...their bodies were made for each other, like they were able to move together in a perfect harmony she’d never experienced before.

Inuyasha was tugging at her cardigan. “Is it okay if I take this off?” he whispered. “I really want to feel your skin against mine.”

Kagome smiled. “Only if you let me take something off of yours,” she whispered back. “Do you dare?”

“Oh, woman,” he nearly groaned at the coquettishness of her question. “Of fucking course I dare.”

Kagome grinned, and dropped her hands to his sides. He was still wearing his jacket; she pushed at it until it fell away from his shoulders; Inuyasha let go of her just enough for him to shrug off his jacket; she immediately tugged at his shirt, whispering, “May I?” He nodded, the words caught in his throat, and then his breath was stuck too as she pulled his shirt upwards; Inuyasha held his arms up as she yanked and dragged it up and over his (oh, gods, _muscular_ ) arms. Once it was off, and he was shirtless, Kagome paused to take him in, and he was _stunning_. 

His entire torso was sculpted, as though he’d stepped out of one of her old art books and into her living room. His chest was bare, and glistening in the low lights of her apartment; she may have whined at the sight of his muscles rippling with every movement. 

She was instantly embarrassed. If he looked like _that_ , what would he think of how _she_ looked, with her twice-a-month yoga and her occasional workout-in-the-house-when-she-had-time body?

“Hey,” he breathed, “hey.” Inuyasha had noticed that she had pulled away and that her scent was tinged with sadness. “What’s up?”

“You’re...you’re beautiful,” she breathed.

“Keh,” he replied. “I ain’t nothing much.”

“Well,” she said hesitantly, “compared to me, you are.”

Inuyasha cupped her face with his hands, eyes blazing as they met hers. He leaned in for a soft, sweet kiss.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered. “You’re so fucking perfect, and I’m... I’m...” He pulled back suddenly, and his eyes sparkled. He tugged at her tank top. “Will you let me see all of you, Kagome?” he asked quietly. “Will you let me touch you, taste you, make you feel good?” His eyes flashed, then softened. “If you dare, will you let me...will you let me be with you?”

Kagome giggled, her insecurities set aside for the moment. She paused, her face flushed, her fingers tracing his delicate cheekbones. 

Here was a man...a _beautiful_ man...who was into her, who _wanted_ her, and who seemed to know exactly how to please her. And who she (thus far, anyway) seemed to know exactly how to please. 

“Inuyasha,” she whispered, ghosting her lips over his and enjoying the feel of him quaking underneath her, “I definitely, absolutely, _dare_.”

Inuyasha growled in response and yanked harder on her tank top. Kagome giggled again and raised her arms up over her head; Inuyasha gripped the hem of her shirt and pulled it up, slowly, carefully, delicately, his eyes watching every inch of her skin closely at it revealed itself to him. Kagome forgot to feel embarrassed as his gaze, heated and desirous, bore down on her and beheld her form in awe. When she was just in her bra, she cupped his face in her hands and leaned in close, her breasts and his torso now separated only by the thin fabric of her bra. Inuyasha tugged at the hooks, and Kagome licked his lips, causing him to let out a desperate whine.

“Kagome,” he breathed. “Can I take this off?” He tugged again at her bra.

“You can,” she murmured. “But only if _you_ do it, with no help from me. Do you dare to do it without asking for help?”

Inuyasha pulled back suddenly, and held her at arm’s length. His golden eyes shone darkly; Kagome could see the lust dancing across his irises.

“Kagome,” he panted, “I do. I dare.” With a shuddering hand, he rested his fingers on her bra straps and followed their lines over her shoulders, down her decolletage, and molding his hands to the shape of her breasts, his palms fitting perfectly over her nipples. He squeezed her breasts together, and she sighed. His claws tracked over her skin; they both closed their eyes to enjoy the feel of his touch. She felt soft, and fresh, and perfect. He wanted nothing more than to continue to knead her like this, to revel in the pliability of her softest parts, but he had a dare to fulfill. 

And he knew just how he was gonna do it.

With a quick slash of his wrists, Inuyasha shredded her bra and cast aside the tattered remains. Kagome cried out in protest. “Inuyasha!” she exclaimed. “That’s not what I meant!”

“You just said, ‘with no help from me,’ he murmured, pressing his face between her breasts and inhaling her scent. “And really, I did fulfill the dare perfectly.”

“That bra was my favorite!” she protested.

“I’ll buy you seven more just like it,” he said, “one for every day of the week. One for every day I’m gonna tear it off of ya again.” And then he turned his head, nipped at the soft skin of her breasts, and brought his hands up to massage her gently. He tugged at her nipples, enjoying the strangled sounds she made as he teased them into hardened little pebbles. She gasped as he shifted slightly and took one into his mouth; her entire body went slack and she nearly swooned in his arms when she felt a fang scraping against her sensitive skin. 

“ _Inuyasha_ ,” she moaned. “Not...fair...your fangs…”

“Are magic,” he finished for her, growling against her breasts now and making her writhe with pleasure even more. She dug her blunt nails into his back and dragged them along his spine; his skin was hot, and seared her fingertips. She threw her head back as he continued to work his way from one breast to another; when he saw her bare her neck to him, he immediately left her breasts and latched onto her neck, worrying the flesh there gently, laving his tongue over the places where he had lightly broken the skin.

“Do...do you want to take this somewhere else?” she asked breathily.

“Why?” he panted, now openly licking her neck from her clavicle up to her jaw bone. _Fuck_ , she felt divine. “Is the couch not good enough for you?”

“I...prefer...not to dirty the furniture,” she breathed, tangling her fingers in his hair again and moaning softly as the pad of his tongue lingered along her cheekbone and his fangs lightly teased her ear.

“I don’t think of it as dirtying the furniture,” he whispered, his breath hot in her ear. “I think of it as marking my territory.”

“Your...territory…” she gasped. “It was... _mine_...first. And I’m gonna hold onto it.”

“Not for much longer,” he promised, and gripped her waist and flipped her over onto the couch. He eyed her fully, from her breasts down to the waistband of her leggings. She writhed under his blazing look. Inuyasha dropped to his knees beside her. One hand teased her breasts and the soft swell of her stomach; the other snaked under her head and lifted her gently so he could kiss her. “I want to taste you, Kagome,” he murmured, his tongue now licking her lips tenderly. “I want... _fuck_. I want to make you feel really fucking good. I’ve been an ass, and I am so sorry, and I just...I want…” he growled and kissed her again.

Kagome lifted a hand and cupped Inuyasha’s cheek as their lips met. He was sorry; she knew that he was. And so was she.

“Inuyasha,” she breathed, “I’m—I’m sorry too. Because I shouldn’t have run. I shouldn’t have left.”

“You said all this already in your letter,” he pointed out.

“I know,” she replied, “but that’s not the same. I was an ass, too, and now? I just...I want to say that _I’m_ sorry, that _I_ apologize, and that I want to be with you, too.” She caressed his cheek and looked deeply into his eyes. “So, so much.

“So tonight,” she added, “I want you here. And tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day. If...if you want to be here, too.” Her blue eyes were hopeful, trepidatious. 

“Have you not figured it out?” he replied, ghosting his lips over hers and delighting in the soft moans that elicited. “I did what I did because I was tired of the games, but didn’t know how to tell you. I wanted to _see_ you, Kagome. I wanted to hear your voice, to see your gorgeous, gorgeous face. I wanted to know all of you.” He paused. “I’ll be here for as long as you’ll have me. I hope it’s past tomorrow morning; if you want, I’ll never leave.” He leaned forward and kissed her again. “I like you. A lot. A lot _a lot_. I want to be by your side. I want to wake up every morning next to you. I want to make you breakfast, lunch, and dinner…”

“Hold on,” she said, “you cook?”

He grinned, flashing her his fangs, and noticing how the gingery lemon scent that surrounded her was spiking like crazy. “Yeah,” he said. “And I’ll cook whatever you want, for whatever meal you want.” He scoffed. “You want a traditional Japanese breakfast? I’m your guy. You want pancakes for dinner? Also your guy. Steak? Ramen? I can do it all.”

“Now you’re bragging,” she said teasingly.

He leaned forward and kissed her, allowing his fangs to trace the edges of her lips. She shivered. “Why don’t you let me stay and find out?” he asked huskily. “If you dare.”

Kagome half sat up and grabbed his arms. She heaved and pulled him up on the couch on top of her, then thrust her hips up into his groin. “Oh,” she breathed, yanking him down by his shoulders so their bodies were flush against each other, “I absolutely will take that dare.” And she crushed her lips to his, sending jolts of electricity through both their bodies. Inuyasha growled loudly into her mouth, and when she shuddered in his arms and her delicious scent spiked again, he knew just how much of a turn-on his demon side was for her. 

And now, his demon side was pawing inside him, demanding to be let out. Insisting that he use his instincts to take her fully. To drink of her fully, to live inside her, to be truly one with her. 

His demon wanted everything. And Inuyasha was planning to make Kagome feel like a goddess every step of the way.

He broke the kiss, and Kagome whined softly, trying to scramble up and taste him some more. Inuyasha chuckled. “No, no,” he said, waggling his finger at her playfully, “it’s my turn, and I want to get to know all of you. Is that okay?”

Her face was flushed; her breathing harsh. But still, Kagome nodded. 

“Please,” she said softly, “please get to know all of me, so I can get to know all of you.” Her fingers reached up and found his ears, and Inuyasha instinctively leaned into her touch, his growls becoming pleasant rumbles as she satiated his senses temporarily.

Even as Kagome caressed his ears, Inuyasha’s hands were hard at work. He’d found the waistband of her leggings, and was gently tugging them down, along with her panties. Kagome lifted her hips and allowed him to pull them completely off, so that she was fully nude, and fully vulnerable, before him.

Kagome inhaled as Inuyasha took her in. His eyes eagerly roamed over her form: from her tiny ankles, up her shapely calves and thighs, over her womanly hips, across the softness of her belly. From there, his eyes lingered on her full, heaving breasts; they reluctantly left that view to caress her clavicles, her shoulders, her arms, then up her neck, and finally resting on her sweet face. Golden eyes met sapphire as they gazed at each other; they were the only two people in the room, in the building, in the world.

“Gods in heaven, Kagome,” he breathed, “you are so beautiful.”

Tears pricked at her eyes as he leaned over her. He kissed the corners of her eyes, tasting the salt of her tears. “You’re perfect,” he whispered over her lips. “You’re amazing.”

His lips touched hers briefly, then proceeded to make their way down the length of her body. Kagome moaned softly as he again focused his attention on her throat, nibbling and sucking and laving as he traveled down towards her collarbones, which he traced with his tongue. Her skin was sweet, with a hint of salt, and permeated her telltale scent of vanilla and cherry blossoms, infused with lemon and ginger. She smelled like the sweetest dessert...maybe a pie, or a cake...fuck, it didn’t matter. She _was_ the sweetest dessert, and Inuyasha knew in that moment that he would never tire of tasting her. 

He lingered for a moment on her breasts; he rested his face between them, and squeezed them on either side of his face. He moaned softly with the pleasure of feeling her around him like this, and pulled back just enough to push them together even more. She was a pin-up goddess; he suddenly had visions of her in a corset and fishnets, and his moans became louder as he had to shift his groin around to accommodate his growing erection, which was now pushing uncomfortably against his jeans. 

Oh...the plans he had for her...the _dares_ he had for her…

But first, Kagome’s pleasure was all that mattered.

Inuyasha’s lips crossed each nipple, giving them both a lick, a nip, and a growl. She twisted her hips, whispered his name, and pushed him further down her body. He growled again; he definitely wanted to spend more time worshiping her perfect breasts, but if she was as anxious as he was, then she wanted him to hurry the fuck up. Which was fine. He would have plenty of time to love her, savor her... _later_.

Inuyasha’s tongue reluctantly left Kagome’s breasts, then continued its path south. It stopped at her stomach, lightly tracing the outline of her navel, causing her to giggle. “Inuyasha,” she said, “I dare you to go lower.”

He huffed at her, and laved her stomach from one side to the other in response. She giggled again and pushed at his shoulders, but he growled and nuzzled her stomach. 

“My pace, _Ka-Go-Me_ ,” he grunted. She whined and tried to thrust her hips up into his face; he chuckled, and held her down with one hand.

“Now,” he added, “let me see how you look. Since you dared me and everything.” 

He moved off her body to a spot beside the couch and coaxed her legs apart. The tiny curls of her hair were neatly trimmed and soft; his fingers trembled as they lingered across the juncture of her thighs. Gently, he probed her sweet lips open, and was immediately hit by a stronger rush of her arousal; it made him heady and drunk with desire. Inuyasha grinned, and drew one of her legs off the couch, so he could open her up more fully.

“Now here,” he said huskily, settling himself between her thighs, “for a demon? This is the part of you that is the most delicious. This is the part that makes me delirious. It’s where your scent is the strongest, and the densest. Ohhh, Kagome,” he shuddered, “you don’t know how badly I want to taste you. To see if you taste as amazing as you smell.”

“Then don’t keep either of us waiting,” came the clipped reply. “ _Please_ , Inuyasha. For someone who accepted a dare, you’re sure taking your time.”

“Only because it’s driving you insane,” he sang back to her in a low growl, grinning again as she rolled her hips up towards his face. “I kind of like making you wait. Since you made me wait.” He reached up and tweaked her nipples with one hand, while he traced the opening of her sex with his other, marveling silently at how wet for him she already was. Her grunts and soft mutterings of “goddammit” made him grin even wider, and he glowed at the loud cries she offered up as he leaned forward and thrust his tongue into her waiting sex.

Kagome’s cry was loud; he took her by surprise, the ass, but holy _fuck_ , did it feel good. His tongue inside her was long, and strong, and caressed her walls roughly as he thrust it in and out of her. He kept one hand fondling her breasts; the other he worked between her lips and began to massage that tiny bundle of nerves that they both knew would give her so much pleasure. Kagome writhed, and pushed herself into his face; he growled in response and withdrew his tongue, only to tease her clit with her fangs. Kagome couldn’t control the yelps and swears dropping from her lips; he was weaving an elaborate tapestry with every lick, nip, and swirl; the threads pulled Kagome tighter and tighter. There was a fire igniting in her groin and spreading outward; if he pulled her much tighter, she was gonna burst into flames. She was sure of it.

Instinctually, she shoved his hands aside and began to fondle her own breasts. She needed to feel herself; she needed to be a part of the heights of her desire. Kagome didn’t like being merely a spectator; she wanted to be a part of the action. She saw Inuyasha’s golden eyes grow dark with lust as he continued his assault on her pussy; he was watching her touch her herself, and she could tell.

He liked it. A _lot._

His hand ground into her mons as his tongue swept in and out of her, as her nimble fingers tweaked her own nipples, as the tapestry wove tighter. And then, a pinch, and thrust, and Kagome came completely undone, unraveling before him, laying herself completely bare amid her cries and the tensing and eventual relaxing of her body. His face pressed into her as he eagerly lapped her up; she was sweeter than he could have ever dreamed, and he found himself reaching back inside of her to feel her trembling walls and to catch every last drop of her preciousness.

Kagome lay back against the couch, gasping for air, her hand resting over her eyes. A gentle hand grasped her wrist, claws barely pricking her skin, and moved it gently aside. Inuyasha saw her, eyes glazed over, her breaths coming in, short and quick, and he brushed her hair aside. She blinked and looked up at him; she saw him, amber eyes tender, his hand brushing her hair aside. He leaned down and kissed her. “You okay?” he whispered.

Kagome lifted and lowered her hips and turned them from side to side. She hummed and wrapped her arms around him, drawing him in for yet another kiss. “I have another dare for you,” she breathed.

“Anything,” he murmured.

“Inuyasha Takahashi,” she said silkily, “I dare you to fuck me.”

He ghosted her lips. “Dare accepted,” he whispered back.

“Here?” she asked.

“I thought no sex on the furniture?” he replied.

She shrugged. “You’ve already marked your territory,” she said lightly. “So why not?” She thrust her hips up at him playfully and giggled.

In a flash he was on his feet; he took out his wallet and threw it on the table, then nearly tore his clothes from his body in his efforts to get them off. When he was fully nude, Kagome’s eyes widened appreciatively; she reached out and grasped his cock, pulling him to her. She traced the veins with a fingernail, causing him to shiver; she followed her nail with her tongue, massaging him from base to tip, surrounding the head and pulling gently. He groaned and gripped her shoulders, and when she took him into her mouth, he found it _very_ hard to not completely let go. All she could think about was how his dick would feel buried in her _other_ moist heat, and when she held onto his shaft and moved him back and forth, he really thought the world shifted under his feet.

“Ka—Kagome,” he grunted, gently pushing her back. She giggled and leaned forward to lick him again, and this time he growled. Loudly. And wrenched himself away from her.

“Dammit, woman,” he said, “tomorrow you can do that all you want. But tonight? I _need_ to be inside you.”

“Do you have a condom?” she purred, rolling up on one side and propping her head up on her hand.

 _Fuck_ , she was cute.

“Yeah,” he said, and turned away from her. Kagome watched interestedly as he leaned over and grabbed his wallet; she marveled at how his glutes contracted and relaxed as he bent forward and then stood.

Holy gods, his ass was magnificent.

When he turned back around, Kagome saw that he was wearing a condom; she raised an eyebrow, and he simply shrugged. She had a fleeting thought that he was perhaps too prepared, but she shrugged it off. He wasn’t the first guy she’d fucked who was prepared.

But she found herself hoping he was the last guy.

As he settled over her, one knee on the ground, one knee pressed into the back of the couch, Kagome felt a strange fluttering in her chest, and her breath caught. He was looking down at her, so tender, so loving; she reached up and cupped his cheek with her hand, and her heart thumped wildly when he nuzzled her palm. “Are you ready, Kagome?” he asked her. 

She nodded, her heart still thumping. “I—I am,” she said. “Are you?”

He nodded; she could tell he was also barely breathing. “Yeah,” he whispered, hovering over her and lining his cock up with her entrance. He traced her opening with the tip, and she moaned softly. “Kagome,” he said, and thrust his cock forward into her weeping sex.

They both groaned with the feel of her engulfing him fully; she was hot, even through the latex, and he gripped the back of the sofa as he pushed into her deeper. Her legs wrapped around him, drawing him closer, welcoming him into her moist heat. She lifted her hips; he ground down into them, and she whispered his name as her arms went around his neck, drawing him in for a kiss.

She was pressed back into the couch cushions, nearly buried, his body covering hers; she felt completely surrounded by Inuyasha, and her entire body pulsed in reaction to his cock. As he began to move languidly in her, she dug her heels into the small of his back and lifted her hips again, adjusting them so he could reach even more deeply inside her. He felt huge, and slick, and he caressed her walls, causing her to grip him tightly when he thrust in and out of her. 

“Inu—Inuyasha,” she sighed, drawing him in. He felt so good, better than any man before him; their bodies responding perfectly, her hips rolling in reaction to his. She wanted all of him; he was engulfed in her, but it somehow wasn’t enough. She palmed his back desperately, trying to bring him as close to her as possible. When he leaned in, and her nipples brushed against his torso, she cried out and thrust forward; he swore loudly when he bottomed out inside her, and swore again when she locked him in with her ankles and ground against his groin.

“ _Fuck_ , Kagome,” he growled, leaning forward. “You...little...minx.” He attacked her lips, nibbling at them, demanding entrance into her mouth. She opened up for him, allowing him to devour her fully. Her tongue caressed his fangs; her hands shifted from his back, up his shoulders, all the way up to his ears. He tensed and thrust his tongue all the way into her mouth when she lightly massaged his furry appendages, working her fingers from the downy bases all the way up to the tufted tips. She was enjoying all the perks of his being a hanyou, and he was _here_ for it. 

Her mouth was hot; her body was hot; his cock was slick and throbbing with need. He could feel her squeezing him with every thrust, and she could feel him hitting the rough patch of muscle that made her quiver and keen and tweak his ears in her need for release. 

Because, she was getting close; her entire body hummed as she quavered between tension and relief. His cock was getting harder; his growls in her ear were low, and punctuated by grunts of “fuck” or her name, which all went straight to the heat that was steadily pooling in her groin. 

“Inuyasha,” she murmured, and dropped her hands to his face to pull him back up for a deep, searing kiss as her body melted into his. Her legs tightened their grip around his waist; her hips shifted to meet his; as he thrust his tongue back into her mouth again, Kagome nearly burst. 

She felt the tension spreading through her body; Inuyasha felt it too, because he started moving against her faster, his cock pounding into her, her body responding to each thrust with a gyration and a little mewl of her own. The tension that her body had been building towards finally broke, and for the second time that night, Inuyasha helped lead her over the edge. Kagome cried out as her body rippled with her orgasm; her head dropped back into the cushions, and she closed her eyes and gripped Inuyasha even more tightly with her legs, squeezing him inside and out. 

Inuyasha withdrew his tongue from her mouth, but kept his lips on hers; as her body welcomed him, gripped him, milked him with her orgasm, Inuyasha stiffened and felt his entire being focused entirely on Kagome. As she quaked around him, he found that he could no longer hold on, either; his cock was hard, and vibrating with its own need for release. He fucked her through her orgasm, then offered a few additional thrusts of his own, before he threw his head back, howled her name, and unloaded into the condom. 

Inuyasha dropped his head, breathing heavily, still buried inside Kagome. His eyes glistened as he took in her form, half buried by the couch cushions, still quivering from the aftereffects of her orgasm, her eyes closed, her breasts heaving with short, quick breaths. Her hand was fixed over her heart. When she at last opened her eyes, she found he was looking down at her, his amber eyes relaying a vulnerability she had not seen there before, and she reached up to cup his cheek and draw him to her. 

“Hey,” she whispered, and pulled him into a gentle kiss. It was...soft...and full of the languid ease of afterglow. 

“Hey,” he whispered against her lips. “How are you?”

She hummed and drew him closer against her, unwilling to let him go just yet. “Good,” she said. “How are you?”

“Great,” he told her. Because he was. He was... _amazing_. His entire body felt lit up from the inside, and it wasn’t just about the sex, which had nearly blown his mind.

No; it was about Kagome. About her beautiful body; about the way that she responded so perfectly to everything he did; and, most importantly, about the way that she let him into her life, into her heart, when before, he’d had nothing. Now, he had her, and she had him, and he had no intention of letting her go.

“Good,” she sighed. She continued to hold him close, and he let her, even though his cock would probably soon grow hard again from still being inside her, even though he could detect her exhaustion and his instincts were roaring at him to take care of her and get her to bed. Instead, he relished their closeness, and how the lemon and ginger that had permeated their scent before and during their lovemaking was now fading, and being replaced by her regular vanilla and cherry blossom scent. 

He...didn’t want to let her go. 

But he had to, even for a moment.

“Hey,” he whispered, “I need to get rid of the condom.”

She hummed again, and grunted a little, but relinquished her hold on him and allowed him to unsheath himself from her heat. He grimaced at the return to the coolness of the apartment, but got up and went into the kitchen, where he discarded the condom in the trash. When he returned to the couch, he saw Kagome snuggled up there, sweet and adorable and oh-so-sleepy. He smiled gently.

“Come on, sleepyhead,” he said, leaning down to scoop her up, “let’s get you ready for bed.” She said nothing, simply curling up against his chest and burying her fingers in the hairs at the nape of his neck. Inuyasha felt a tug on his heart for this girl: _this girl_ , who had stolen his heart through a notebook, through a series of dares and confessions, through a night of opening themselves up, leaving themselves exposed: body, mind, and soul.

Inuyasha found the bathroom and set her on her feet just inside the door. “Get cleaned up,” he said, “and I’ll wait for you right out here, okay?” She looked at him, eyes wide, and nodded, then closed the door. Inuyasha leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, satisfied when he heard running water that she was cleaning up and getting ready for bed.

When she opened the door again, he immediately picked her up and carried her to the only other door in the apartment. “Bedroom?” he asked her.

She nodded into his chest. “Beware Buyo,” she murmured.

“Buyo?” he said, opening the door. “Who the hell is Buyo?”

A streak of white and brown flew past his feet, nearly making him lose his balance. Inuyasha heard a faint hiss and turned towards the living room, where he could just make out the outline of a cat sitting on the couch. It hissed again, then laid down on the couch cushions where he and Kagome had just had sex, as though daring Inuyasha to come get him.

Inuyasha had to chuckle. Apparently he wasn’t the only one after Kagome’s heart.

He took Kagome into the bedroom; it was simple, with walls painted a beautiful blue-gray up top and an off-white wainscotting at the bottom; the woodwork around her window was the same off-white, and she had a gray and gold Roman shade. There was a dresser, and what was probably a tiny New York apartment closet, along with a desk, upon which he could see her laptop. The walls on either side of her bed had built-in shelves, which were completely filled with books, notebooks, and picture frames. Inuyasha resisted the urge to scour them tonight. He had tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that to do so. 

Instead, he nestled Kagome against his chest with one hand, and with the other, he turned down the bed. He laid her in the flannel sheets (he was gonna _bake_ , but whatever; he’d sleep with his feet outside the covers and let her snuggle in close to him), covered her back up with the blankets and the quilt, then tiptoed out to the bathroom to get washed up.

“You—you’re not leaving, are you?” Her voice was sleepy, and plaintive, and begged to know that he was going to stay.

“Just to the bathroom,” he assured her. “Hopefully your cat doesn’t attack me on the way there or back.”

“He’s hardly an attack cat,” came the tired reply. “But he hates other men.”

“Good,” Inuyasha replied. “So do I. We’ll get along splendidly.”

Kagome giggled. “Hurry back, okay?” she said. “It’s cold here without you.”

Inuyasha’s heart stopped, and he resisted the urge to immediately jump into bed and hold her close. “I promise I’ll be two minutes,” he said, and closed the door slightly. With a look back into the living room, where Buyo was still eyeing him suspiciously, Inuyasha dashed to the bathroom, cleaned himself up, found some mouthwash, then scurried back to the bedroom and into bed with Kagome. She immediately snuggled into his warmth, and he accepted her willingly, gratefully, into his arms.

As Inuyasha drifted off to sleep, he thought about how this was the first time in a long time that he maybe, just maybe, didn’t hate Christmas.

* * *

The morning light peeked around the edges of the Roman shade, casting little fractals of light across the tiny bedroom. Inuyasha reached out with hands, searching for Kagome; when he didn’t feel her, his eyes immediately shot open, and he looked around the bedroom frantically. 

Where could she be? What was going on? Did she leave?

_Asshole. This is her apartment. If anyone would be leaving, it would be YOU._

“Good morning.” Her voice was crisp, and joyful, and his ears immediately perked up at the sound of her coming back into the bedroom. He turned and saw her there, wearing a fuzzy pink robe, her hair tied back in a high ponytail. Her blue eyes were bright, and her cheeks were flushed. Inuyasha smiled in spite of himself at the sight of her looking so cheery first thing in the morning. He was definitely _not_ a morning person. 

“Morning.” Unlike hers, his voice was deep, and rough with sleep. She giggled and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Merry Christmas, Inuyasha,” Kagome said, blushing slightly, a smile playing on her lips. 

“Merry—Merry Christmas, Kagome,” he replied, now also blushing slightly. 

“I made coffee,” she told him, “but it’s in the living room, so you have to come outside.”

He growled and pulled her to him for a kiss; even in the morning, she was still so soft and warm, and this robe was…

“How about a little wake-me-up here first?” he asked, tugging at the knot in her robe.

“Later,” she giggled, whisking his hand away. “Come have your coffee. I think Santa may have been here, too.”

Now he sat up fully in bed. “What do you mean, Santa was here?”

She giggled again. “Your clothes are on top of the dresser,” she said. “See you out there!” She waved and left him alone in the bedroom, his mind a jumble of thoughts and emotions.

Waking up to Kagome was...well, it was better than he could have expected. He’d slept better than he had in, what, a year? Since Kikyo? Maybe even longer. He threw back the covers and stretched his legs; her bedroom was small, but cheery, and so like her it made his chest rumble with pleasure. Her scent washed over him in gentle waves; no wonder he’d been able to sleep so well.

If it was up to him, he’d be moving in here like tomorrow.

Inuyasha pulled his jeans on, not even bothering with his boxer briefs. He ran his fingers through his hair and grimaced; he needed a brush, or a shower...preferably both. But he was sure he was decent enough for Kagome; she certainly hadn’t pulled away from him. He strode into the living room, his chest still rumbling; he eyed Buyo, who was glaring at him from under the chabudai, then saw Kagome, her eyes sparkling sapphires, sitting by the Christmas tree with a tray. 

He sat down beside her and peered at the tray with interest: two mugs, two spoons, a sugar bowl, a milk jug. Then, his eyes drifted to look under the tree. Was that a…?

“I told you I made coffee,” she said, “but I...didn’t know how you liked it.”

“Black is fine, with a little milk.”

“Oohhh,” she said. “Show me?”

And he did. He poured out the slightest amount of milk into his coffee mug, and then watched as she added a teaspoon of sugar and a generous amount of milk. “I’d much rather prefer a latte,” she said, “but this is as good as it gets.”

“I’ll take you for a latte anytime,” he told her.

Kagome giggled. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Inuyasha grunted, his face serious. “Kagome,” he said, “I’m asking you out on a hundred dates. A thousand, if you want.”

Kagome’s blush deepened. “I...accept every one,” she whispered, looking down.

They were both silent for a moment, sipping their coffee, Inuyasha’s eyes still glued to a spot under the tree. Was that...was it...He couldn’t be sure, but if he was wrong…

Kagome’s eyes drifted up to Inuyasha’s, and followed them to the spot under the tree. She gave a little gulp at the realization he must be wondering what it was. “This is for you,” she said suddenly, setting down her coffee. She picked up the thing he had been eyeing from beneath the tree, and thrust it at him, her eyes suddenly shy. “I didn’t have anything under the tree...until this morning,” she said. “Now...now it feels a little more like Christmas.”

Inuyasha...didn’t know what to say. He could see the tears in the corners of her eyes; he could detect that her scent was becoming laden with salt, but he didn’t sense any sadness from her. Instead, it was quite the contrary. Instead of saying anything, he simply accepted the gift with a gruff “Thanks,” and turned it over in his hands, mindful of the paper and his claws.

It was a beautifully wrapped present: the paper was red, and gold, and it had a beautiful silver bow affixed to the front. A little name tag said, “To Inuyasha; Love, Kagome,” and Inuyasha just knew that he would hold onto that name tag for the rest of his life. He turned the package over in his hands, and looked at her expectantly.

“You...you _can_ open that, you know,” she said, her eyebrows raising a little.

He grunted, said something like “I know _that_ ,” and then began working at the paper with his claws, careful not to tear it.

“Inuyasha.” He looked up and saw her frowning at him. “Don’t you know how to open a Christmas present?” she asked. “ _Rip into it!_ ”

He laughed—a real, deep, booming laugh—and tore into the wrapping, mindful of what was underneath. In moments the paper was shredded, and he was left holding his gift in his hands.

It was a leather-bound notebook. Unlike their old one, this one was navy blue. The words _If You Dare_ … were written across the front in careful silver lettering. He looked at Kagome, confused. “We already have a notebook,” he said. “Why can’t we keep using that?”

“Because,” she said, leaning in close, but not kissing him, “that’s the notebook that tells the story of how we met. _This_ is the notebook that tells the story of us being together.” 

His heart. His heart was in his throat. And he was maybe crying. Or at least tearing up.

How did he get so lucky? How did he end up with a girl so beautiful, so thoughtful, so creative and caring? How did this happen to him?

“No, Inuyasha,” she was saying, and when he looked back up, he could see that she was crying too. “When I put that notebook on the Haruki Mirakami shelf at The Strand, I never expected _anyone_ to even look at it. And not only did _someone_ look at it, but that someone? That someone was _you_. 

“And at first? I was hesitant. Because you sent me rock climbing.” She scoffed, and he smiled. “Because I’m not athletic, and that made me grumpy. And I thought, I can’t believe I’m doing this, not only for a _guy_ , but for a guy that I’d never met.

“But you know what? I had fun. I had _so much_ fun. And I started wondering what kind of guy you were. How you could be into rock climbing. And when I found out you were a demon, and then a half-demon?” She smiled. “I was all kinds of in at that moment. I like demons. A lot.” She blushed. “I know some people are...afraid...of demon...attributes?” Inuyasha had to grin at her use of that word. “But I...I like them.”

“I could tell,” he laughed, and this broke the tension a little and made her laugh too.

“And I like _you_ ,” she added, leaning forward and cupping his cheek. Her thumb gently rubbed his cheekbone. “I like you _a lot_. The fencing academy? You outed me. You made me face my fears. And I was kind of mad about that? But… Shippo was right. I needed to give you a chance. And I did. And you aced it. And so…” Kagome nodded at the notebook. “I think you should open it to the first page.”

Inuyasha blushed too. “Before I do that, Kagome,” he said huskily, “I need you to know. What I said last night? It was true. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I want to be with you. I want to be by your side. I...I like you...too. A lot.” He leaned into her touch and nuzzled her cheek before pulling away. “So I hope we can keep going? See where this is taking us?”

Kagome nodded. “You should open the notebook,” was all she would say. 

Inuyasha smiled, and held the notebook in his hands, admiring the gentle turn of the leather and the way it was dyed: such a perfect navy blue. He opened the notebook and read the first page.

 _Inuyasha. Kiss me on Christmas morning....  
_ _If you dare_.

Inuyasha looked up at Kagome, his golden eyes again shining with unshed tears. He tossed the book aside; she slid the coffee tray over by the couch. They sat there, beneath the Christmas tree, gazing at each other, their looks full of hunger and devotion and all the things that had remained unsaid between them.

“Kiss you on Christmas morning, huh?” Inuyasha asked with a chuckle. He leaned back in towards her; her eyes were bright blue and shining, and reflected his own eyes, flecks of gold shining through. 

“I accept your dare.”


End file.
